#that kind of stuff encourages me to edit <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[mylittlecrow]

Jon & Sansa (+ Daenerys) | Love is the Death of Duty

"You have to protect him, promise me."

"I'll protect you, I promise."

He could still hear Sansa pleading, as Lyanna had pleaded once.

[seraphinitegames]

The Wayhaven Chronicles—Update 31/May/2024

A busy one this week! But it always feels good when it’s been busy but you can check so many things off your list. Especially seeing as it was a bank holiday I forgot about last Monday, so a shorter week! :D

After some amazingly encouraging comments on Patreon, I did decide to go back and put in the Unit Bravo POV for Chapter Two. Not only that, but I decided to make it individual love interest POVs, because I can’t help myself, hehe! But it was actually kind of perfect, because it gives a nice small glimpse into what the vampires get up to when the MC isn’t around and they aren’t working…well, unless it’s A, and then they’re pretty much always working anyway, lol!

After that, I started on the end scenes for Chapter Two, and let me tell you…they are some doozy scenes! Bringing out some angsty punch right from the start, hehe! But also finished with some rather lovely soft romantic moments which help to soothe that intensity… ;D

They were scenes I have been waiting agggges to write. It certainly sets up how things that are happening might come between the building romances!

I was a bit worried that adding in the extra POV scenes would push me back, but I really went for it this week, and I’m going to be finishing Chapter Two today as planned!!!

So next week that means I can start on the editing and rewriting. Next week will also be social media days, which I will be heading elsewhere to do because internet here is still intermittent at best, and I really want the asks to be more consistent again! 

Got some really fun stuff coming up on Patreon this month too, including the initial sketch idea for Mason/Morgan’s masquerade ball mask! Looking forward to working on all of that :D

Hope you all have the most amazing weekend and enjoy the demo—as well as get excited for what's to come after checking it out, hehe! We’ll be offline as usual, so I’ll update you all again next week! <3

[feyreswaterybowels]

⭒The Silent One⭒

#3 Azriel x Fem!OC

⭒Part 1⭒Part 2⭒Part 3⭒Part 4⭒

Word Count: 3.6k

Summary: Azriel finds the guy that sold Cassandra. Lots of bonding happens with Cassandra, Azriel and other members of the IC. Slight cliffhanger.

Warnings/Tags: mentions/implied rape. Mention past sexual abuse. Mentions pregnancy from rape. Slow burn. Violence. Brief victim blaming. Found family. Protective!azriel. Protective!IC. GRAMMER ERRORS—I plan on going back to edit this please don’t judge me too hard I’m gonna have a busy week and just really wanted to get this posted for y’all🩵

Authors Note: all reblogs, likes and comments are welcome, appreciated and encouraged! Let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list for the next chapter. Regular italics are inner thoughts and bold italics are mental communication.

⋆ ݁⟡ ݁☾ ݁⟡ ݁⋆

Azriel stands in the darkness of night watching. Waiting. Body thrumming with anger. Calm cold anger. The kind that got people killed if they didn’t give him what he was looking for.

Only moments after Cassandra’s departure had his shadow returned to him. Telling him where to find this Vale. This horrid male who was taking females away from their family and selling them off—profiting off of them like livestock.

He sees the male, recognizes him from the briefs flash of memory Cassandra let slip at dinner, the one where this mad had choked her, slammed her against the wall just for needing to use the restroom.

The male is loading something up in the back of a wagon, the building behind him dark and dingy. Azriel let his shadows take him closer. Closer. Until he was standing in the alley between this man's house and another. The smell was horrid, small creatures scurrying about looking for their meal for the evening.

The male retreats into the building and Azriel lets a shadow loose to follow him—to be his eyes inside of this building. Inside is just as dark and dingy and piled high to the roof with…stuff. The blue skinned male navigates the maze of boxes and bins and trash with ease. He seems to be the only one here but Azriel knew better so he waits following the man through the seemingly endless maze.

That’s when he hears it, his shoulders going tight, his jaw clenching. Crying—no sobbing. A girl begging to be left alone as the male grabs her and pins her down to the floor.

“Fuck,” he growls. He pounds his fist against the outside of the building, taking chucks of the stone out. It’s loud enough to distract the man, to get him away from that girl as he rushed from the room under the floor, locking the locks and coming out. Looking around wildly for the source of the sound.

Azriel winnows, leaning against the wagon the man had been loading before, whistling to get the man attention. He whirls around, black eyes narrowed in anger, freezing in place when they land on him.

“Shadowsinger?” He grunts, narrowing his eyes at Azriel. “What brings you to these parts?”

Azriel looks him over, the smell of shit, piss and rot was overwhelming even from this distance.

“Vale,” Azriel says, to let the male know he knows who he is, rightfully see the fear in his eyes. “I’m looking for something and I hear you’re the one to help me.”

“I ain’t got nothing you need, pretty boy,” Vale sneers, crossing his arms, looking Azriel over. Trying to come off as tough but it’s actually laugh-able.

“Are you sure?” Azriel asks, pushing off the wagon. Letting his wings spread wide, walking closer, towering over the male. “See, I’ve got this female telling me you bought her from her dad and sold her to a pleasure house. I mean, tell me I’m wrong, man. I’ve just gotta check on these things. It’s a pretty serious accusation and all.”

“That chick’s got the wrong guy. I would never do something like that. These bitches are always trying to get us males in trouble,” Vale said, seeming to relax. Big mistake.

“You think so? Just tell me if you know her man. About this tall, really pretty, tan skin, white hair. Wings.” Azriel growls the last word, the man’s eyes widening again, taking a step back.

“Look, man, it’s not like that. Her dad owed me money, so he gave me her instead cause he couldn’t afford to pay me back, okay? So I didn’t technically buy her,” He stammered out, trying to explain himself.

“Oh,” Azriel said, nodding his head. “Well, I mean, if you didn’t technically buy her then no law was broken.”

“That’s right!” The male nods, sighing in relief. “No law was broken, man. I wouldn’t—I wouldn’t do that—”

“Yeah. I get it,” Azriel nods, shifting. Looking towards the building, then back to the low life in front of him. “And that female inside? Did you buy her? Is she here of her own free will allowing you to rape her daily?”

“Fuck,” Vale whispers, turning and running down the cobble stone road. Azriel stands there watching, a grin stretching his lips as he lets the male think he’s getting away.

“Send Morrigan,” He calls out to Rhys as he watches the male.

“She’s coming.”

Then he's gone again, just as Vale looks over his shoulder to try and spot him, only to smack hard into a body that came out of nowhere. He looks at the shadowsinger towering over him, swallowing thickly.

“What do you want from me?” The male nearly cried out as Azriel grabbed him and pulled him up, slamming his face first into a stone wall. The resounding crunch of his nose breaking is ever satisfying.

“Her name is Cassandra,” Azriel snarls into the man's ear. “She told us what you did to her. What you did to that female you have locked in that disgusting building. We know there’s more girls. We will find them all and when we do, I’ll let each one take a turn with you. Their weapon of choice. And you’ll feel exactly what they felt.”

“Ple-please. Please, just kill me,” The man begged, fighting in Azriel’s grasp but he was no match for Azriel’s strength.

“And what kind of justice would that be? Did you stop when those girls begged you to? Did you give them death with they would have preferred that over you using their bodies?” Azriel asked, scenting the smell of urine as the man pissed himself. “You deserve everything you’ve got coming to you.”

Before the pathetic excuse of a male could beg or plead any more Azriel grabbed the back of his head, smashing it into the wall, letting him fall unconscious to the ground. He left him there binded and hidden by shadows, stalking back to the building where he spotted Morrigan easily.

“Don’t tell me this is where he’s been keeping those poor girl?” She asked when she spotted him approaching.

“Unfortunately, I think it is. She said under his house but he could live here. I’ll question him more. I know there’s at least one female inside,” Azriel explained, guiding Morrigan into the building. Be could get the female on his own but he knew it was safer to have a female companion—after all they’d been through the least he could do was make sure a female was the one to comfort them.

They get to that basement floor, unlocking the various locks and pulling the hatch open. It’s as dark and dingy down here as it was in the rest of the building. Morrigan enters first, taking Azriel’s hand to steady herself on the old wobbly stairs.

“Your wings won’t fit down here,” She said, hushed. He nods at her. “Send a shadow if I call for help.” It’s said jokingly but he knows she’s serious. He’d rip the floor from this building to help her if she needed it.

Mor squinted her eyes in the dimness of the sellar, resisting the urge to plug her nose from the horrid smell.

“Hello? Is anyone down here?” She calls out, looking up from at Azriel when there’s no reply. “Hello, my name is Morrigan. I work for the High Lord. The male keeping you here is—”

Morrigan’s cut off when I body slams into hers, knocking her to the ground. She cries out in surprise when a sharp sting slices across her cheek.

“Stop, hey, stop! I’m here to help!” Mor calls out, trying to catch the hands of the female fae on top of her.

“Mor!” Azriel’s deep voice calls.

“I’ve got it!” Mor calls back, grabbing the girls wrists. “Please, stop! Vale is gone! He can’t hurt you, please, stop!”

The girl stops fighting then still tense where she’s straddling Morrigan’s middle section.

“He’s gone?” She whispers and Mor nods.

“Yes, he’s gone. He can’t hurt you any more. I swear,” She promises. Eyes finally able to take in the sight before her.

A fragile, naked, malnourished body sits atop her. Eyes not only shut but scarred as if they’d been cut—maybe by the same person that took Cassandra’s tongue. But what really got Morrigan, what had her ready to lose the contents of her stomach was the rounded belly attached to that nearly skeleton body. Her eyes welled and she helped the female to shift off of her body.

“Are you pregnant?” Mor whispers, trying to keep her voice from breaking as the female nods.

“Please, don’t let him take this one too,” She cries, reaching out to find Morrigan’s hand, squeezing it tightly. “Promise me I get to keep my baby.”

“I promise, no one is going to take your baby away from you,” Morgan swears, a single tear falling down her cheek. “What’s your name, sweet girl?”

“Neema, my name is Neema,” She answers and Mors eyes widen. The girl Cassandra told them about.

“You and your baby are safe, Neema. We’re gonna take you away from here, okay?” Morrigan says, standing and helping the pregnant female stand as well.

“I have my friend Azriel here too, he will not touch you, he’s only here to make sure no further harm comes to you. He’s handing me a cloak for you to wear,” Morrigan explains so the female doesn’t feel uncomfortable. She nods, allowing Mor to wrap the cloak around her.

“Are there any other females here?” Azriel asks gently, wishing he hadn’t with the way she clenched at the deep mess of it.

“Not—not that I know of. The females come and go. There’s been no others for months…” Neema answers, grasping the fabric tighter around her body.

Azriel and Mor share a look the last females had to have been Cassandra and the other two she mentioned.

“I’ll stay and check the building before I head back,” Azriel informed, consciously softening his voice so as not to scare the female again.

⋆ ݁⟡ ݁☾ ݁⟡ ݁⋆

Morrigan winnows away with Neema and Azriel searches every inch of the building with his shadows. No signs of any other females. He leaves the building, needing to relieve himself of the horrible stench.

He retrieves the still bound and unconscious male, winnowing him to his dungeon. He strips him, places a gag in his mouth, dumps him into a chair and binds him to it. He would be dealt with later.

The sun would be rising soon and he wanted to be there when they informed Cassandra they found the male and the female—her friend?

He enters Rhys' study, Cassian and Mor there too.

“How is she?” He asks, glancing at Morrigan then his brother.

“Resting,” Rhys answers. “Madja looked her over. Thankfully the baby seems healthy, Madja’s main concern is getting Neema to gain some weight and begin healing herself.”

“We offered her to live amongst the priestesses in the library, she agreed,” Morrigan said, her brown eyes bloodshot and cheeks flushed.

“Good, that’s all good, they’ll help her heal,” Azriel nods his head crossing his arms. “I have the male in my dungeon.”

“Have you gotten any information out of him?” Rhys asks, standing from his desk.

“Not much. He admitted to knowing who Cassandra was, receiving her from her father and holding her. He never admitted to selling her but that information won’t be hard to get out of him,” Azriel explains and Rhys nods in agreement.

“You get whatever information you can out of him and then he’s dead,” Rhys orders, Azriel doesn’t need to confirm he already knew what Rhys decision would be.

“Are we telling Cassandra?” Cassian asks, the first words he’s said the whole time.

“We are. She needs to know he’s here, it may bring her some comfort knowing he’s locked away and Neema is safe. I think you should be the one to talk to her, Azriel,” Rhy says, turning his attention to the shadow singer.

“Me? Not Mor?” Azriel asked, a bit confused.

“Yes, you. She’s comfortable with you. You’re the one that apprehended him. I believe she would prefer to hear it from you,” Rhys nods.

“Okay, I can do that,” Azriel agreed.

“You handle that, I’ve got some business to attend to with the priestesses. We’ll all meet up in a few hours to discuss further action.” Rhys stepped around his desk, patting Azriel’s shoulder when he passed by him.

⋆ ݁⟡ ݁☾ ݁⟡ ݁⋆

An hour goes by before Azriel tracks Cassandra down. Finding her in the library, flipping through a book where she’s sat in the large window seat that overlooked the city below. A steaming cup of tea next to her.

“I thought you couldn’t read?” Azriel asks, leaning against the door frame, grinning when those green eyes meet his.

���I can’t. I’m looking at the pictures,” She said, holding up the book, some romance book from the looks of the two people in a colorful garden.

“Ah,” Azriel says, walking further into the room. Trying not to focus on the way her eyes track up and down his body the closer he gets. He holds his hand out for the book, flipping it over the read the title, snorting at it. “Secret Garden Romance, huh?”

She shrugs, taking the book back.

“I asked the house for a book with a lot of pictures, this is what I got,” She said, a small sweet breathy laugh escaped her lips and he couldn’t help his own smile.

“Did you end up getting some sleep?” He asks, watching her set the book down and grab the warm mug.

“I slept but not great,” She shrugs. “I can’t stop thinking about my sisters.”

“We’re gonna do everything we can to find them, I promise you that,” Azriel said, not even waiting for a beat. He would find her sisters and he’d beat the shit out of her father too.

“You know I took my older sister's place. It was supposed to be her he sold off but the way she had cried when he told her. I couldn’t let him do that to her so I told him to take me…I didn’t really know what he meant when he was selling me. I thought I’d be a servant like the ones we had when I was a kid or something. I never thought…” She trailed off, taking a deep breath.

“You’re not to blame for what happened to you. You were protecting your sister. You did a very selfless thing. You're safe now and your sisters will be, too,” Azriel said, resting his elbows on his knees as he leaned towards her.

“Well, what about you?” Cassandra asked, gently changing the subject. “Did you ever get any sleep?”

Azriel sighed with a head shake. “No, actually. That’s kind of why I came to talk to you.”

Cassandra fixed him with a curious look, leaning forward as if to give him her full attention for whatever he needed to say. He looked into those glowing green eyes, filled with curious concern.

“We found that male. Vale. We found him,” Azriel said, watching the vast range of emotions flash through those emerald eyes.

“He’s here?” Is what she asks, fear tinging her voice. Azriel straightens his back.

“He will not touch you,” he declared, holding her gaze. “He won’t even come near you.”

I’ll fucking kill him if he does. He thinks but doesn’t add it out loud.

“He can’t get out of…wherever he is?” She asks, and he wants to reach out so badly to comfort her. The ache in his chest drawing him to her.

“No. He’s being held in a very secure place. I promise you’re safe here. You’re safe with us.” Azriel promises. You’re safe with me.

“Were there any females with him?” She asks and Azriel nods.

“The girl you told us about, Neema. She was the only one there—it had been only her for months.”

He watches as her eyes fill with tears, offering his hand for her to hold. She takes it, thumb tracing his scars unconsciously.

“Just her…alone with him for months. Gods, is she…I feel like okay isn’t the right word for what I want to ask,” She says, sadness written all over her face.

“She will be okay,” Azriel said. “She’s in bad shape. Pregnant, malnourished but we have an amazing healer and a library below the mountain. Many priestesses live there. Many of them have experienced similar traumas. They’ll help her heal.”

She looked thoughtful for a moment. He wasn’t sure what was going through her head as she sat there silently, grasping his hand and tracing his scars.

“I want him to die.” It’s fierce. Heated. Emotional. And it does something to Azriel’s heart, to his brain. He squeezes her hand. “I want him to feel everything we felt. To know the fear he put us through. I want him to suffer and then I want him to die.”

“He will die. I swear to the Mother. I’ll get every drop of information from him and when it’s time his death will be painful and slow,” Azriel swore, gently swiping a tear from her cheek.

⋆ ݁⟡ ݁☾ ݁⟡ ݁⋆

The next day is a day Cassandra would remember forever. She hadn't slept much the night before but Morrigan had practically begged her to have lunch.

Cassandra wasn’t entirely sure she was ready for a day out in the city but she felt safe with Morrigan. She nearly asked if Azriel could come too until she learned he would be spending the day collecting information from Kamari and Vale.

Morrigan picked out her outfit for the day and it was one of her favorites she’s worn since being here. A flowy silk top that tucked into a dark pair of slacks that raised high on my hips. They emphasized her longer legs in a way she had never noticed before. She had also pinned Cassandra’s hair up and out of her face.

She liked the way Azriel smiled at her when he saw her dressed this way. She blushed but was quickly rushed away by Morrigan, shouting something about wanting you to herself for the day for girl time.

Their first stop was a place she called the River House. A beautiful home that her mother would have loved. Morrigan had only had them stop here briefly to grab a few tote bags, wanting to shop while they were out but promised to bring her back and give her a proper tour of the house.

The city was even more beautiful when you were in it. The sun was shining bright in an endless blue sky. Better than any dreams she had ever had about it.

They went to bakeries, where Cassandra single handedly filled half a tote with various pastries.

Then a clothing shop where Morrigan helped her pick out some new clothes. A few everyday pieces. A gorgeous gown she wasn’t sure where she would wear it but Morrigan swore she would need it sooner or later. And then the softest, satin, dark blue nightgown—it had reminded her of the stones that glowed atop Azriel’s hands. Morrigan herself had picked out quite a few outfits and gowns of her own and a lace set that looked like something the girls in the pleasure houses would wear but she paid no mind to it—she was sure it would look gorgeous on Morrigan wherever she planned to wear it to.

Then they went to a place near the river for lunch, the glistening river was the perfect view while they ate.

“Do you feel like you’re settling in okay?” Morrigan asked, sipping on some kind of iced fruit tea while they waited for their food.

“I’m still…adjusting. I enjoy the company of everyone. I feel like I can trust you all. It’s just odd.” Cassandra says, taking a drink of her tea that was just slightly too sweet but she wasn’t complaining.

“What’s odd?” Morrigan asks gently.

“Trusting strangers more than I’ve ever trusted anyone else,” She says it like a confession, like she should be ashamed for feeling that way.

“I don’t think that’s odd,” Morrigan shrugged. “You’re around people like you, people you can relate to and get to know. It’s easy to feel safe with us in turn, causing your trust. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

Cassandra smiles at Morrigan.

Their food comes soon after and they talk the whole time. Morrigan gives her the rundown of how Rhys, Azriel and Cassian all knew one another. She explained more about their titles and what each one of them did as a member of the inner circle. She told her about so much that Cassandra could believe she’d spent her whole live knowing practically none of it.

When they go to a bookstore Cassandra looks at a few before putting them back. Morrigan grabs them and tells her they’ll teach her to read���that she’ll love these books and so many more.

And when they finally get back to the House of a Wind it’s late. She's exhausted from carrying around nearly overflowing tote bags and eating more muffins then she can count.

A top the house where they have to land they’re greeted by the three males. Their solemn faces wiping the smile off your face. She caught Azriel’s eyes, sees the look of pure death there—a look that she just knows means he wants to kill someone.

And just like that, her perfect day with Morrigan took a turn straight down hill.

Tag List: @aelinwya @starlightandsouls @fullmoon-94 @aetherl0l @caticorn61 @lilah-asteria @blackgirlmagicforever @div94 @purple-writer8 @little-missbookyworm @saltedcoffeescotch @namelesssav @slytherintaco @whatsupb @little-missbookyworm

[ace-turned-confused]

whatever you want | joel miller x f!reader

joel masterlist

summary: date night for you and Joel but we skip to the good part word count: 3,2k warnings: 18+ only, POV changes, no plot in sight, reader has no physical descriptions other than clothing, established relationship, pet names, smut, oral (m receiving), fingering, unprotected p in v, butt stuff, spitting, creampie, praise kink, panty kink, size kink, Joel’s filthy mouth a/n: this is the first thing i've written that's actually made it out the doc before being trashed forever - big thanks to my irl bestie for her continuous words of encouragement <3 this is very mildly edited because i'll hate it if i keep trying to improve it ✌️ i'd appreciate any feedback! again pls be nice thank you love you

You've been looking forward to this all week — date night with Joel. You usually stick to something simple, going out for a cosy dinner or just deciding to cook together at home — but he always ensures it’s a memorable night in one way or another, and tonight is no exception.

He suggested to you earlier in the week, lying in bed, “How ‘bout this time you pick out something for me to wear? Hm?” It had your mind racing with ideas, thinking about all the possibilities now presented to you. 

You glance at him, “So what’s in it for you, then?”

“No ulterior motive here, sweetheart,” he puts his palms up near his face and smirks, “You always look pretty for me, I just thought I’d return the favour.”

“Hm, that’s a big decision,” you mutter with a playful smile.

You’re well aware of what Joel loves seeing you wear — he’s always loved anything you wear, to be frank, racy or not — and decided to pose a deal to him, something you knew you’d both benefit from.

“I may have some ideas. Why don’t we make a deal, then?” you inch closer to him and play with a stray lock of his hair. “You do something for me, and I’ll do something for you.” Your eyes meet and you can tell he’s trying to figure out the game you’re playing.

“And what would that entail?” he asks, a hint of cockiness in his voice, impressed by your unusual boldness. You remove your hand from his hair and drape your arm over him.

“Will you wear that red shirt again… with the sleeves rolled up?” you ask shyly, trailing your fingers up and down his side.

“Sure will,” he says, still smirking. You’re only getting more breathless the longer this goes on, and you haven't even made your whole point yet.

“And… those black pants of yours…?”

“Which ones, sweetheart? I got a lot of black pants,” he remarks, feigning innocence and a cheeky lilt to his voice. “You know which ones,” you mutter, your hand stilling.

He shifts closer until you’re pressed against each other and whispers, “Don’t think I do, you’re gonna have to tell me.”

You huff, annoyed at him for teasing you like this, and at yourself for getting turned on by his games. “The tight-fitting, black—”

“That’s not what you really want to say, though, is it? Tell me what’s going through that pretty head of yours,” he interrupts, and you shiver.

You look down at his chest, unable to make eye contact with him and pray he doesn’t notice how your cheeks redden as you whisper back, “Those black pants that everyone can see how big you are, those pants, I want you to wear them.”

He skims a hand up your back, “See? Was that so difficult?” he asks rhetorically, and you can practically hear his teasing smile and visualise the dark glint that you know will be in his eyes. “And what shoes should I wear, you know, to tie the whole look together?”

“You know very well I couldn’t care less what fucking shoes you wear,” you chirp back at him, forcing yourself to look him in the eye again.

Satisfied with your answer, he plants his hand on the small of your back, caressing you gently with his thumb, “You mentioned some kind of deal?”

If he hadn’t brought it up again you’re not sure you would’ve remembered at all. You’ll always be amazed by how calm he is after derailing a conversation and making you so flustered.

You close your eyes, mentally shake yourself, and start your bargaining, “Well, I promise to wear the laciest panties I own—” you look at him sweetly through your lashes, “—if you promise to keep your clothes on. And you can, you know, do whatever you want.” It comes out far breathier than you were planning, but it’s out. “With me, to me, you know. Whatever.” 

He raises his eyebrows slightly, voice lowered, “Whatever I want, hm? And all I have to do is stay dressed? Quite the deal there.”

-

Joel’s made himself comfortable in his chair, eyes trained on you in the doorway. Sitting here now, the night’s only just beginning and you’re already like putty in his hands. He noticed hours ago your eyes had glazed over, and he’s been growing harder and harder ever since in anticipation.

“What’re you thinking about, sweetheart?” he asks, and your gaze refocuses on him.

“You,” you reply, sweet and simple.

He does a once-over, taking in your flowery, strappy top and neat little black slip-skirt that falls just above your knees and hugs your hips beautifully — your hands fiddling with the hem of your shirt and you’re shifting your weight side to side.

He smiles softly and suggests, “Why don’t you show me those pretty panties you promised to wear?” and you nod gently, moving slowly further into the room.

Much more confident and comfortable in your own skin than when you took your clothes off for him the first time, you face Joel and lift your gaze to meet his. You reach behind your back to unzip your top and lift it over your head, dropping it to the floor. Pushing your thumbs beneath your waistband, you peel your skirt over your hips and hunch forward slightly, letting it pool around your feet. Standing at your full height again, he takes all of you in — clad in lace, black bra and lilac panties.

He widens his legs and curls a finger, beckoning you forward and you stand between his knees. Joel rests his hands on your hips, thumbing the lace over your hipbones.

“Where’ve you been hiding these?” he looks up at you and sees heat blooming across your chest and up your neck.

“I, um… I’ve been saving them, for uh—“ you stutter, and he can see you start second-guessing your choice. Breathing shallowly, you murmur, “Do you not like them?”

He smiles at you, still playing with the lace, “I love them, sweetheart. You know I always do.” He lowers his gaze down to your panties again, eyes trailing across the fabric, and he doesn’t miss how you press your legs together, seeking any sort of relief.

He pushes against your hip to turn you around, and almost can’t believe how you’ve both ended up here. You, dressed in your best lace just for him, ready and willing to do as he says? You’d clearly been wanting to do this for some time now, but Joel would be lying if he said he wasn’t excited, too. He kneads the swell of your ass, fingers toying with the lacy edges and hears you breathing deeply again.

“So, whatever I want?”

You turn to look at him over your shoulder and reply under your breath, “Yes.”

He turns you around to face him, hands still on your hips. He looks up at you again, “You okay?” and squeezes his hands.

“Yeah,” and you nod, smiling down at him.

“Well, you did such a good job picking these panties all on your own, sweetheart, I think maybe you need a reward,” he darts his tongue out and drags his hands along your thighs, resting his arms down and leaning back in his chair. “First, though, you’re gonna show me just how good you can be, okay? C’mon, on your knees.”

You lower yourself, getting comfortable between his legs, your eyes lingering on his bulge before looking up at him. He nods towards his lap and you start undoing his pants, palming him through the fabric. Reaching into his boxer briefs and wrapping your hand around his length, you stroke him a few times and pull his waistband down just enough to take him out, thick and heavy and already fully stiff in your hand. You bow your head to lick him from base to tip, hover above him and spit onto his cock, stroking him harder and smiling sweetly at him.

You start taking him into your mouth and he sighs, resting a hand on the crown of your head. “You been waiting all night for this, huh, sweetheart?”

You hum a response and he groans, watching you bob up and down, taking more and more of him each time. You pull off and continue stroking him, and he smiles at you in encouragement. You take him in your mouth again, and he feels you hollow your cheeks and take him even further, the tip of his cock just about breaching your throat and you whimper around him.

“Fuck, baby, doin’ so good,” he grunts and pulls you off. His hand moves to the nape of your neck, the other tracing over your collarbone and down over the lace of your bra, your nipples hardening through the delicate fabric. “Think you can do it?”

You nod eagerly at him, eyes glinting, hands stroking him languidly and you move to start sucking him again. He tightens his grip and stops you. “Use your words, please.”

“Yes, I can do it.” You look up at him and his hold softens.

“Good girl, go on.”

You lick the underside of his shaft and swirl your tongue around the head of his cock and take him again, working him just to the start of your throat. You’re breathing as best you can through your nose, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, lips stretched around him and brushing his wiry curls as you push even further and hold him there, fingers digging into his thighs. You start to gag and do your best not to pull off him, squirming to find any bit of friction and Joel moans at the sight, throwing his head back.

“Bein’ such a good girl, taking my cock so far down your throat, hm?” 

You moan and swallow around him, his hips jerking at the sensation and he pulls you off. “Almost too good,” he breathes, “know you’d love me coming down your throat, but not tonight.” He gives you a lopsided smile and you whine, moving back and forth on your knees.

“Stand up for me sweetheart,” and you rise, looking down at him, still catching your breath. His hands are back on you immediately, squeezing your waist, hips, ass — any part of you he can reach. He runs his fingers across your panties again, trailing them down over your covered clit and between your folds and you tilt forward into his touch.

“Soaked right through these pretty panties of yours,” he looks up to meet your gaze and there’s almost no colour to your eyes anymore, just pure blown-out pupils. He keeps rubbing his fingers along you and you whine again, clearly desperate for him to touch you properly.

He smirks up at you, “So needy just from sucking my cock.”

Joel shoves his hand under the elastic of your panties and rubs his fingers between your folds and over your entrance, coating his fingers in your arousal. He shoves two thick fingers into you without warning and you fall forward with a strangled moan, hands supporting your weight on his shoulders as he pumps his fingers in and out, your cunt tight around him.

“Always so wet for me, huh? Need me to make you feel good?” He stares at you, eyes shut and mouth hanging open as he slows his hand and you force out a yes, your voice hoarse. He speeds up again and curls his fingers into that one spot he knows you can’t reach with your own hand, brushing over it again and again, the palm of his hand grinding against your clit.

Your legs start trembling and he pulls his fingers out and slips them into his mouth, sucking them clean. “Taste so sweet.”

He moves his legs between yours and pulls you towards him and down onto his lap, guiding your hips back and forth over his length, precome leaking from his tip. He leans forward, “You gonna keep these on while you sit on my cock, yeah?” and tugs on the waistband of your panties, letting the elastic snap back against your skin. You nod frantically in response and lean into him, wrapping your arms around his neck to kiss him haphazardly. He licks into your mouth and moans into you, hands firmly gripping your ass.

You rise slightly and he takes hold of his cock, stroking himself and pulls your panties to one side. He lines himself up with your entrance and you start to sink down, eyes screwing shut at the stretch. He holds you by the waist, your hands like a vice grip on his shoulders and it takes everything in him not to pull you down and make you take him to the hilt. You take your time working him in, inch by inch, and Joel can tell how close you are already, your broken moans getting louder and louder.

You’re fully seated and he takes a hand off his shoulder, plants a kiss on your knuckles and guides it between your bodies, spreading your fingers around where he’s splitting you open. “You feel how stretched you are, baby?” You gasp and he leans towards you and lifts his hand to grip across your chin, mouth ghosting yours and squeezes his hand to purse your lips. 

“Open,” he orders and your lips part, spitting into your mouth and he feels you tightening around him. Pushing his index finger into your mouth, you suck and swirl your tongue around it, moaning as you lift up and down, grinding yourself onto the trail of hair at the base of his cock. Joel feels your legs starting to give out underneath you and he watches you with hooded eyes. He pulls his finger from your mouth and wraps his arms around you, hands reaching down underneath your panties to grab your ass and spread you wider. He prods his finger at your tight hole and your eyes shoot open to look at him, desperate and needy.

“You gonna come for me?” You whine and nod, almost begging him with a please, over and over again. He pushes his finger in to just past his middle knuckle and you moan out wantonly, already completely wrecked. Joel feels your cunt clamp down on his cock and you come with a sob of his name, eyes shut and face contorted in pleasure as he whispers praises in your ear.

-

At some point in your post-orgasm haze, Joel moved the two of you onto the bed — you waiting on all fours and Joel's voice breaking through from somewhere behind you.

“Did good sweetheart, always do, but I’m not done with you.” His hands are all over you, skating across and grabbing any skin he can reach. You crane your neck to look over your shoulder in search of him and notice he’s still fully dressed — well, as fully dressed as he can be — and remember that’s what got you into this position in the first place. Dishevelled greying curls, only the last couple buttons holding his shirt together, wide chest on full display, sleeves rolled up, pants and boxer briefs sitting mid-thigh, his cock, thick and hard and leaking and you clench around nothing just at the sight.

He hooks his fingers into your waistband and pulls your panties down to the tops of your thighs, placing open-mouthed kisses on the skin as it’s revealed. He spreads you with his hands and spits onto your pussy and you let out a choked moan. He drags the tip of his cock through your folds and the messy mix of arousal and spit and your last orgasm. You feel him notch at your entrance again, and he sheaths himself fully inside your cunt in one thrust, all but punching the air from your lungs and he groans. You feel the swell of his tummy pressed against you and his fingers digging into your ass as he spreads you open. “Look so beautiful like this, wish you could see it.”

He leans over you, breathing into your neck, “Always take my cock so well, baby.” He pulls out almost completely, snapping his hips back into you and you can already feel heat pooling at the base of your spine again as he pounds into you, fingers gripping your hips so hard he’s bound to leave bruises. He snakes a hand underneath you to rub your clit and you feel your legs start to tremble.

All you can think is Joel Joel Joel, and his voice cuts through the ringing in your ears, husky and breathless. “You gonna give me one more, yeah? Come for me, sweetheart. Be a good girl and come on my cock,” and you all but see stars behind your eyes, overwhelmed with the sweet praise. He stills as you come, his hands and affirming words keeping you grounded as you clench and gush around him.

He wraps his arms around you and pulls you up flush against him, your head falling back onto his shoulder and you’re not sure you can form words anymore, your chest heaving as you try to get your breathing back to normal. You turn your head towards him and he kisses you surprisingly gently.

“Can you be good just a bit longer?” He starts grinding his hips into you and you whine, your hands coming up to hold his arms. “Always such a good girl for me, hm?” He drags his mouth along the side of your neck and you nod tiredly, feeling him smile.

He starts with slow thrusts, his grip around you the sole reason you’re still upright, his voice in your ear and hot breath on your neck and the heavy, familiar, drag of his cock in and out making you dizzy.

“So fuckin’ tight around me sweetheart. Your favourite feeling, isn’t it? Being stuffed full of my cock?” He starts rambling on and you know he’s close. “You want me to come inside you? Want me to come inside your tight little pussy?”

“Yes, please. Please come inside me.”

He mumbles incoherently and you tighten your hands on his arms; his thrusts get harder and his arms stiffen in their hold around you and you feel him twitching as he starts to spill inside you, warmth coating your walls. He lowers you both to lie down as he comes down from his high, cock still buried deep inside you and you feel his spend start to leak out around him and down your thighs.

-

Shifting around and your eyes fluttering open, you’re wrapped up in Joel’s arms, head burrowed against his chest. You reach down and feel he’s cleaned you up and pulled fresh panties on you, a faint throbbing between your thighs. He stirs next to you and presses a kiss to your forehead, long and tender.

“Sorry, fell asleep,” you mumble and wrap an arm around his torso to press yourself into him even more.

He pulls back slightly, lifting your chin with a finger to look at him. “Sweetheart, think we’ve done this enough that I know you get sleepy afterwards. Stop apologising.” He cradles your cheek, kisses you sweetly and whispers, “Now go back to sleep.”

comments & reblogs are hugely appreciated, forehead kisses to all 💜

dividers by @saradika-graphics

[ghostboneswrites2]

Hi!! I want to start of by saying that I love your writing!

So while watching twd I noticed that Daryl has more tattoos in the later seasons and can only guess that they’re stick-and-poke and that he did them himself. Do you think you could write a fic where the reader(f) is in a relationship with Daryl and asks him to give her a tattoo (which she has none of btw)? I was thinking like a little arrow or something because she “wants to have something of him even when they’re apart”? And make it super fluffy and stuff?

Marked

18+ MDNI || Warnings: Needles, profanity, mostly just fluffy nice cool Daryl

Note: I am not encouraging you to give anyone or receive an at home tattoo via sewing needle or tattoo gun, but I have received my fair share of both and the descriptions in this story are just based off my vague memory of how it was done for me! It is definitely not a tattoo guide.

edited to add: tysm for the compliment ilysm <3

        "Did you always have that tattoo?" You wondered, tracing over the dark marking on his arm. The two of you were on one of your regular afternoon strolls through the woods when you decided to lay against a log and chat. The sunbeams filtered through the canopy above and littered little golden rays over his arms, highlighting the light hairs and texture of his skin. These moments were your favorite. Peaceful bliss in the natural world.

        Daryl shook his head.

        "Nah. Did it awhile back." He said.

        "How?"

        "Never had a stick-n-poke?" He asked.

        "Never had a tattoo, period. Let alone a prickle-poke." You shrugged.

        "It's stick-n-poke." He snickered silently. You glared.

        "Whatever. Can you give me one?" You asked.

        "A tattoo?" 

        "Yeah. The stick-n-prickle kind." You joked.

        "Alright." He nodded. "Gotta get some supplies together for it."

----

        You watched as he carefully burned the little sewing needle and wrapped it in thread. 

        "Why thread?" You asked.

        "Kinda helps hold the ink but mostly jus' for grip." He explained.

        He set up a tiny container on the side table of your bed with black liquid.

        "Is that ink?" You asked.

        "Mm-hmm." He nodded.

        "You made it?"

        "Uh-huh."

        "How?"

        "Soot. Alcohol. Water." He shrugged. "Ain't hard."

        "Cool." You whispered, fascinated by his expertise. 

        "Wha'd'ya want?"

        "I was thinking about an arrow." You said. "A small one. Real simple." He raised an eyebrow. "For you, dummy."

        "I got that but.. Why?" He tilted his head a little.

        "'Cause. I wanna have something for you... Always. Even when we're apart." You said with a soft smile. He hid his face bashfully, not wanting to expose the little blush that was creeping over his features. Instead, he pretended to adjust the thread around the needle.

        "Where ya want it?" He asked when his flushed cheeks returned to their normal sunkissed glow.

        "Right here." You pointed to your ring finger, right where a ring would go.

        "Ya sure?"

        "Mm-hmm." You nodded surely. He wiped some alcohol over that spot to disinfect it.

        "Alright." He said. He delicately grabbed your finger and held it in place. "Y'ready?"

        "I've had worse than a little pin prick." You giggled. "I'm ready."

        Without another word, he got to work carefully poking the needle through your skin, freehanding a perfect line. You watched in awe, studying his look of concentration, the way he tilted his head to see though his hair, holding your finger up close to his face to make sure every detail was perfect. It only took about twenty minutes. You looked it over when he finished, holding your hand up the way someone does when they're admiring their engagement ring.

        "Wow." You grinned. "How did you make such a perfect line?"

        "Ain't perfect." He shrugged.

        "It is! I love it." You insisted. A half smile curled at the corner of his lips.

        "'M glad, 'cause it don't wash off." He joked. You rolled your eyes.

        "This is no laughing matter, Daryl. You just proposed to me, ya know." You said in mock seriousness.

        "What?" His eyes widened. Even under the tan skin, his face still drained of color. 

        "Yeah," you pressed on. "This is my ring finger. Like, the ring finger. And you permanently marked it with something symbolic to yourself." You gloated.

        He blinked. He couldn't tell if you were joking or not.

        "Anyways, I'm gonna go talk to Carol about planning the wedding. I bet Rosita and Tara would be beautiful bridesmaids." You rambled. "Oh, and instead of cake, everyone gets a glass of moonshine!"

        "I don' think.."

        "I'm kidding, genius." You rolled your eyes. He relaxed a little. "Thanks though. I love it."

        He cleared his throat and stood up, cleaning his workspace so not to clutter your bedroom.

        "Oh, by the way.. This is the ring finger." You smirked. He stared at you for a moment before shaking his head.

        "Don't go showin' the whole damn world and tellin' 'em we're married." He grumbled.        

        "Would that be so bad?" You pouted. He smirked and planted a kiss on your forehead.

        "Nah. But I ain't proposin' with no damn stick-n-poke. Gon' find ya somethin' better than that."

        Your face lit up, practically brightening the entire room.

        "You're gonna propose?!" You bounced with joy.

        "Wha-- I didn't--"

        "Oh, my god! I have to tell Carol!!" You squealed as you darted out of the room. He stood there expressionless, processing what he had just done.

        "Shit." He mumbled. It wasn't that he wouldn't propose one of these days. He'd love to call you his forever. Otherwise, he never would have marked you with something that represented him in the first place. It was just.. That it would draw so much attention to him. He sighed. He guessed he walked right into that one.

---

        "When did you do this?" You asked him, holding up his ring finger that was now decorated with a little cloud shape.

        "Yesterday." He shrugged.

        "Is that a cloud?" You eyed it closer.

        "Mm-hmm." 

        "For what?"

        "Dunno. Ya always stare up at the clouds when we take long drives." He explained. "Now we're both marked."

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[frvnkcastles]

Reader that sometimes just gets tremors? Especially when tired and frank just holds them as they can't stop? I'm going through this rn and have been since some trauma within the last year and an half, it makes my how that got cracked by my brother in a fight worse for some reason so I have to manually click it since I didn't get any medical treatment when it happened like 8 years ago?

EMPTY YOUR SADNESS ➵ F. CASTLE

Summary: You struggle with tremors, and Frank is there to help throughout the day.

Warnings: Tremors, gender neutral reader, fluff

Word count: 1.9k

Author’s note: This was actually a half-done one shot I had written some years ago based on my own experiences, because I also struggle(d) with tremors, though it’s gotten better, so I just had to edit a little and add some stuff. I hope it gets better for you too, anon!! I focused a lot on hands in this, I hope that works for you <3

Your frustrated huff followed by a loud sigh caught Frank’s attention, his routine of brewing his evening coffee interrupted by the obvious emotion arising from your shared bedroom. With a gentle frown, he tried to see you through the doorframe, tilting his head in doing so only to simply find your smaller frame hugging itself on your bed. A weight sank onto his heart and he forgot about the coffee machine promptly, leaving it work on its own as he trailed to the bedroom with worry gnawing at his heart — the one he had given up to you a year ago.

It was all that time he had spent with you that allowed him to know you more than well, and recognize the shadows of anxiety looming over your eyes as you turned to face him with an expression that told him you were seconds away from breaking.

”Hey, ’m here, sweetheart. Whaddya need?” he promised, his deep, calm voice always capable of grounding you in ways that no breathing exercise could. His ego had been boosted beyond belief when you had first told him that you found his presence and especially his voice immensely soothing, and ever since then, he had made an effort to talk you through your anxiety. Suddenly, a man of very few words, transformed into a chatterbox — although you had always known that when it came to praise and encouragement, there were very few who had it under control like Frank.

”I tried to paint my nails, but…”, you trailed off, making Frank’s frown deepen when you lifted your hands so he could see the obvious shake in them. He saw the embarrassment and struggle in your eyes as you blinked and shyly lowered your trembling hands down, but he was quick to reach you on the bed and take them in his own.

”Breathe with me, yeah? ’S okay. I’ll hold ’em for you as long as you want me to. Okay, sweetheart?” he spoke softly while making an effort to look into your eyes, all the while his big, warm hands enveloped your smaller ones. He felt the shake, so he squeezed a little tighter, not enough to hurt but enough to balance your fingers. ”There you go”, he whispered sincerely as you took in a deep breath and nodded along with him.

You took a minute just sitting with him, letting him cradle your hands and brush his thumbs across your skin until he was finally clearing his throat and getting up after a gentle kiss on each hand. ”Aight, tell me. What color ya want? I’ll paint ’em for you”, he inquired, and for a second there, you wondered if he was joking. But then he seriously walked over to your box of nail polishes and began digging through the different shades, his eyes scanning them — some got a longer, curious stare whereas others almost made him smirk. Clearly, he liked your nails painted, too.

Still, you were touched by his kindness, and when you thought about him painting his daughter’s nails, your smile only deepened. It threatened to bring a tear to your eye, but you swallowed and answered his question.

”Purple, please”, you announced meekly, a bashful look on your face when Frank grabbed the shiny little bottle and climbed back on the bed with you.

”Hell yeah, baby. Love purple on ya”, he commented before settling in front of you. He saw the flash of disbelief behind the affection in your eyes, and it made him grin as he pulled you closer and closed his jean-clad legs around your hips. ”What? Ain’t seen me with nail polish before?” he teased, well-aware that manicures were the last thing one thought of upon taking a glance at the muscular, burly, downright scary man. Of course, you weren’t scared of him, and you had seen the soft side of him, but it was still almost dreamy to watch him gently take your hand while unscrewing the top of the bottle with one of his.

”I’m so lucky I have you”, you chuckled quietly, all truthful and a little bit shy as you cast your eyes down to where Frank tenderly held your twitching fingers.

Before he could bring the small brush soaked in neon purple over to your thumb, he narrowed his eyes at you and hummed. ”Hey”, he grunted, and at that, you brought your gaze back to him only to find him observing you with sincerity. ”I’m the lucky one, aight? You mean everythin’ to me, darlin’. I’d sit here paintin’ your nails all night if you wanted me to”, he swore, and with a weak smile, you nodded in the knowledge that he meant every word.

Then, you fell into a comfortable silence as Frank meticulously swiped the purple across your nails, making sure not to mess up the skin around them as he focused so deeply it was almost amusing. His hold on your hand was soft but firm, and he felt warm even with the callouses on his big palm, sending a shiver down your spine as he effortlessly moved and tilted your hand so he could go about his work.

If only the tremors in your hands had been a one-time thing. Instead, they seemed to always be there, bothering you and making things difficult for you. Frank picked up on it quickly, always there to help you if you wanted it — and most times, you did. You didn’t say it outright, but he could tell anyway; you felt stupid and incompetent, probably even more so when you needed him to do things for you, so he always made sure to take off the pressure and make it a casual, normal thing. He didn’t mind, after all.

So, when in the morning you reached for your necklace, the one he had gotten you, adorned with a diamond heart, it didn’t take him long to see you struggling to unclasp the chain. Your fingers trembled uncontrollably and the harder you tried, the worse it got. He noticed the frustration growing behind your eyes as you desperately tried to open the necklace, the annoyance radiating off of you while you stood in front of your full-body mirror.

”Hey”, his gruff voice whispered from behind you, snapping you out of your self-loathing thoughts. ”Lemme”, he added before gently taking the necklace that looked so small in his large hand, ”y’know I love any opportunity to touch my best baby.”

When he saw the anger in your features fade into a blush and a sheepish smile, he grinned in a way that was more than obvious in the mirror while he circled around you. ”Look at you, still get so shy. Fuckin’ adorable, ’s what you are, sweetheart”, he muttered while towering over you, big hands coming to your neck before carefully pulling the necklace back and reaching for the clasp.

His big hands were hardly made for working with jewelry, either, but if anything, the brief struggle he had made you feel better. A part of you wondered if he did it on purpose — a secret he’d never reveal — but you did end up with a smile on your face when he finally locked the necklace and let it fall to the neckline of your shirt, shining in your reflection.

”There’s my pretty darlin’”, he announced with a kiss on the top of your head.

It wasn’t the only thing that required his help in the bedroom department, either. You had a few beloved button-ups that Frank absolutely adored on you, and every now and then, you made sure to whip them out. The only problem was… well, the buttons.

You had gotten the first one done. Then you kind of struggled with the second one, but you managed. The third one was your downfall.

”Goddamn it”, you seethed, the pure venom in your voice uncharacteristic to say the least, and it got Frank to peek from the bathroom connected to your bedroom, his wet hair ruffled and his bare chest shining under the warm lights while he tied his towel around his waist. Any other time, it would have gotten you to drop to your knees — and even now, your gaze lingered and your mouth went dry at the sight.

He, on the other hand, was far from amused as he watched the half-buttoned shirt, even though the peek of your bare skin caught his attention for a second. Nevertheless, it wasn’t the priority, and he made as much clear as he walked over to you with one of his big hands catching your wrist to stop you from stomping over to your closet for a change of clothes.

”Hey, hey, c’mere. I don’t mind, y’know that”, he reassured, and before you could rant about your inability to do the simplest thing, he gave you a look. ”Ya gotta be more patient with yourself, sweetheart. You’re tryin’ your best and I know ya’d get it with some more time”, he insisted while swiftly doing the buttons for you, taking his time to caress your collarbone and to lean down to kiss your neck when he was done.

It seemed he was always there to help you. Sometimes it was random routines that got interrupted by your shaking, like pouring a glass of juice or trying to write something down on paper, but the most persistent time it occurred during was nighttime. You’d lie in bed, unable to sleep because of the constant tremors, and oftentimes it would push you to a point of frustrated tears.

But Frank? He was incredibly patient with you.

”C’mere, sweet darlin’. It’s alright. I gotchu”, he whispered, his voice thick in the quiet of the night as he pulled you into his chest, wrapping his arms tightly around you to keep you still. It didn’t seem like it was going to stop on its own, but he had no issue with hugging you to help with the shaking, his big hands covering yours and your entire body swaddled by his embrace.

”I’m sorry”, you sniffled, ”I know it’s so annoying.” You felt so embarrassed that you couldn’t stop, couldn’t have any control over it, but Frank wasn’t going to let you go down that path.

”Nah, sweetheart. I know it must give you a lotta grief but I ain’t bothered. I won’t ever mind holding you through it”, he assured you, dead-serious but soft as he spoke into your ear. ”I’m sorry it keeps happenin’. Wish I could take it away”, he added sadly, and nodding, you agreed.

”Thank you, Frankie”, you sighed, dropping your head on his shoulder and feeling the warmth of his body. ”This would suck a lot more without you”, you mentioned, and chuckling, he pressed a kiss against your temple.

”Exactly how I feel about you and a lot of things. You make every day better, y’know? I just wanna do the same for you”, he explained with a shrug, and you couldn’t help but smile against his bare skin, a feeling that made him mirror the expression.

”You do, I promise. I appreciate you being patient with me”, you mumbled, closing your eyes as you enjoyed the feeling of being cocooned in his arms.

The tremors hadn’t gone away, but they were less bothersome with Frank applying just the right amount of pressure, and you finally felt like you could get some sleep. It was a ritual you repeated on most nights, and even when you grew annoyed yourself, Frank never, ever did.

[cityof2morrow]

Mod Organizing & Load Order Shenanigans

Published: 5-1-2024 | Updated: N/A MOD ORGANIZING During the [first] "pandemic summer," I started reorganizing my game folders. I also started  a "conflict management" list, containing all the known conflict info from download pages, new conflicts I discover while playtesting, etc. It's 44 pages long at the moment....a testament to my unapologetic mod addiction. I encourage all simmers to keep a list like this. It’s very reassuring (and handy!) to be able to look up known conflicts or keep track of mods which have been merged (duplicate files can break your game FAST!).  **I won’t be able to share mine at this time but most of my info comes from the same pages where I download CC/mods - shout out to the creators who take the time to include this info.

MY LOAD ORDER(S) I number my folders and use mostly lower case filenames to force the load order I want – these were the most important changes I made re: how I maintain a heavily-modded-but-still -very-functional game. With few exceptions, this has been much more effective than keeping track of the number of z's and cases. It also means I don't need to rename downloaded files - I just put them in the right folder. When I played exclusively on mac, I learned that numbering the store cc folders was the ONLY way I could get all the content to work. I never figured out why but I imagine it was because the mac series doesn't include expansions required for some of this content.

DETAILS (the codes) I put that grad school debt...I mean...those grad school research skills to good use and made up my own codes. Here they are... 0= files needed in every save aka my "essentials." These include repair files, shader/UI files, CEPs, global probes (like scriptorium, money globals, inteen checker, inventory checker, etc).

1= mods that do NOT need a load order, some OFB-themed sets I want to keep separate from other CC - like the #co2bellabrand or upcoming #co2cdkseries stuff.

2= mods that require a hard load order. As @episims writes HERE, this only works for mods with non-game-breaking conflicts between them. Only the last mod in the sequence will retain ALL its intended functions. The code for this section goes like this: [number]-[what the mod deals with in-game; i make sure to consider alphabetical order]-[load order number] -name of the mod(s)

I have several global mods that need to load as close to LAST as possible. These folders all start with "2-z-[load order #]-." The "2" tells me they need to load in a certain order and the "-z" makes them load after all the other #2 folders.

See Object Freedom 1.02 (@fwaysims, 2023) and Shiftable Everything (@lamare-sims, 2022) both load at #78? I don't have them BOTH in game at the same time, but giving them the same number ensures that the right load order stays no matter which one i'm paying with. 3 = build mode and neighborhood deco/defaults

4= buy mode

"ts1," "ts3," and similar labels = content that was converted for Sims 2.

5=CAS/bodyshop

OTHER DETAILS I also label folders with certain "type codes" - these tell me things like whether they add permanent data to my saves (custom memories, careers, foods, etc. do this) or whether they are maxis-match. Here are some examples:

-BIN = mod files which go in the program folders -DEF = default replacement -MEM = this content includes custom memory data -MM = maxis-match or an add-on for default game furniture -ADD = content that is not maxis-match -NPC = this content includes or changes one or more NPCs -FIX  or -EDIT = this is a fixed or uniquely edited version of a pre-existing mod -BETA and -TEST = this mod is unfinished and/or a test version Remember, conflicts do not always mean something has to be removed from your game, nor are all conflicts unresolvable. No matter what kind of method(s) you use to organize your game – it’s just important to try/have at least one in the cut.

CREDITS Thanks: Episims, PleasantSims, and all simmers who include load order/conflict notes. Sources: Beyno (Korn via BBFonts), EA/Maxis, Forcing the Load Order of Mods (whoward/Pick’N’MixSims, 2021 via sims2tutorials), Image(s) (Alexander, 2016), Offuturistic Infographic (Freepik).

...Oh and yes...I AM in fact an INTJ/Capricorn.

[3dlove]

BOOTING UP 3DLOVE . . . BIRTHDAY EDITION !

Hello and welcome all, it's that wonderful, scare-filled time of the year! A month-long birthday event won the poll, so here we all are, except this isn't a month long anymore because life Really didn't want me making this event. I cannot be stopped, though! This event consists of two concepts: Inbox trick or treating, as well as prompts with rewards for completing them as a little bonus for my birthday coming up! Extra event info under the cut, it's party time! ;D ☆

Trick or treatin' season ^_^

Inspired by a few other blogs I've seen doing similar concepts, this part of the event is quite simple. Send a 🎃 and a character (+ a theme, optionally) into my inbox and I'll spin a wheel to decide if you get a trick (joke/experimental edit) or treat (genuine edit with that good ol aqua 3dlove editing style™) and spin another wheel to see what type of edit you get.

If you decide to knock on my door with the intent of getting an edit, please keep in mind my blacklist when choosing what character you want to get something of, and please specify if there are any Halloween themes you do not want in your edit (ex; blood overlays, knives, medical stuff, etc)

The rotation of the Aqua around the sun 👍

I've survived another year of being alive, wow! For this joyous occasion, I've also prepared some prompts for the 20th of October until the 31st. Prompts can be submitted until the 3rd of November, just in case anyone needs to catch up! I went with Halloween themes, mostly, but also some stuff I thought would be fun and stuff I personally like. Because. Birthday! Me! Yay :D

Tag me in whatever you make for these prompts so I can see what you make, and optionally use the tag #aquaday2024 . If you complete the entire event (all 12 days) you get 6 edits from yours truly. If you complete half of the event (6-11 days) you get 3! Please keep in mind my blacklist when claiming rewards :)

20th: Edit something involving horror media. Any kind, whether it's a game, movie, show, anything.

21st: An edit featuring a character you love and a character you dislike/hate.

22nd: An edit using fall colors or motifs associated with fall (orange, brown, leaves, pumpkins, whatever you associate with autumn)

23rd: Edit something themed after vampires. Vampire themes, vampire characters, whatever you want!

24th: An edit themed after water, the ocean, aquatic life, characters who are related to these things, whatever you want :D

25th: Free day. Either take a break, or edit whatever you want!

26th: Edit something while trying to balance out creepy and cute aesthetics!

27th: Use this random aesthetic generator and try to make an edit based off of what the website generates.

28th: Edit something while trying to make it the opposite of your typical editing style. Usually use bright colors? Desaturate em! Use a lot of clipping masks? Try to use none, or as few as possible. If your style is complex, try doing something simple, etc.

29th: Planning to wear a costume on the 31st? Edit something based on it, or otherwise inspired by it! If you aren't dressing up, edit something based on your favorite Halloween scary thing (monsters, spiders, masked slashers, etc)

30th: It's my birthday, wow! Another free day, although if you do want to edit something, it's encouraged to edit something that reminds you of me, wink. No pressure, of course, as this day can also just be a little break before Halloween ^_^

31st: Go all out with Halloween related stuff, I dare you. Be as obnoxious as possible with things you associate with the holiday!

The scariest part of all..

Now that that's all out of the way, time for me to ask oh so nicely for some promo! No pressure if I've tagged you, as always ^_^

@rookmeo @xoxobyte @lovesick-level-up @ipcventurine @rwuffles @winecovered @gur0hana

[sun13koi]

another vent uh it’s nothing major so I’ll put the cws I think might be needed just in case. No tags this time.

Cws for possible mentions of yelling, self expression suppression, mockery, copying, etc

In my family, it’s like I can’t do anything without a shitty half baked copy of it coming from my brother. TV shows? He has to watch them too. Friends who are at least twice his age? Too bad, his friends too in his opinion. Not even the stuff most kids find weird- therian masks and quadrobics? He’ll look like shit doing both, and won’t stop bragging about it. It feels like a mockery to my life, every time he copies me. He’s even flirted with my fucking boyfriend, who’s twice his age??? Wtf???

So as you may know, I got converse the other day. Y’know, the shoes that are popular because of art, embroidery, beads, and painting on them? That I bought specifically to do these things? My mom called it ‘ruining’ them. Like what? I’m sorry? First of all, I didn’t even do it on the fabric part of the shoe that would make it unable to be worn with the supplies I own. I painted on the white bits and the bottom. Also- I painted things that express ME. I painted trans flags, the paw lines on the top, theradelta(◯⃤), quotes, etc to express MYSELF- what I like, what makes up me, and what COMFORTS ME- and she called it ruining them. Now sure, If it were any other kind of shoe, if I hadn’t mentioned it before hand several times, if I hadn’t asked for permission, etc- I could see how it would VAGUELY be seen as that. But come on. This just felt like you were saying that my personality, beliefs, and lifestyle ruined me as a person, despite all of them being harmless. And to make matters worse, she’s even more upset because my brother who has NO sense of ‘just bc they did it doesn’t mean I have to’, decided to draw blobs that I can’t even recognize as things on his brand new Nikes.

Mine cost 20 and were an after thought. His cost 50, and he got two pairs. But when I craft on the thing I got to craft on, it’s RUINING them. Heh. Thanks, mom.

and if it were just this, I might have been a little upset, but this isn’t the first time, hence the examples I gave previously

and now despite me already doing all the research, she’s not letting me get a binder either. Even though we have a place that would give them out for FREE with CORRECT SIZING. I really don’t want to sound like a brat or picky. But is it just me, or does this feel really suppressing? I felt lucky I could get a camp halfblood shirt without her reading g every single Pjo book first.

In summery, my mom just indirectly called my self expression a waste of time, effort, and a pair of shoes, my brother can’t form an original idea and it’s made me possessive over everything and everyone I love, and I don’t know what to do <3

If you read this, uh… thanks. It means a lot to me that you’re willing to listen to this shit

and if you’re my online dad uhhh sorry for not just ranting to you like usual I don’t wanna ruin your ren faire day

EDIT: here are some photos of the ‘ruined’ converse. It doesn’t matter what she thinks since they make me extremely happy, but I just think it adds to the overall madness I feel like she has

There are lyrics from the moon will sing on the front but I couldn’t get a good photo. Everything involved I did myself and is incredibly personal to me, and I was so proud of how they turned out. I also TAUGHT MYSELF how to lace on the beads without tutorials. So yeah. Thanks for encouraging my creativity and expression, mom.

[winniethepoohbear04]

overall rating of Tommyinnit “how to be a billionaire” show: 8.5/10

better than I thought it was gonna be and brought up a good amount of niche stuff for og fans while making it easy for the parents of the audience to understand

my specific crowd was quite rowdy lmao and it’s pretty funny that all 3 of them acknowledged it so that was a fun thing

A tincy bit too many genital, poop and 2020 jokes for my liking, but none of them were really bits so it was fine lolz

(This one is a lil spoily so read on ur own accord) almost a main charter death in it which made me giggle quite a bit (I’m sorry I just can not take u seriously in this setting Tommyinnit)

the story line was a lil wonky but there’s only so much u can do with stuff pertaining his actual life so I can’t complain to much hahaha

many voice features and singing which I didn’t necessarily expect but it was quite fun

surprisingly barely any time spent on DSMP

lots of people in merch of all kinds in the audience (mostly Tommy, techno and Ranboo lolz) and many people complimented my 2021 limited edition red Tubbo hoodie (had to prove I was an OG LMFAO that was a joke it was the only merch I brought to college tehe)

cool merch for sale that I unfortunately could not afford nor get a hold of but I would highly encourage people to get them if u can

overall I think it was worth seeing even tho I only bought the tickets 3 hrs before the show cause I was scared of the price commitment and if I would even enjoy it so if ur on the fence about it as well, u should go it was very fulfilling of my 2020/2021 heart and self :))

also yes there is a happy ending and he took a selfie with the crowd at the finale bow :D

[jaynovz]

Expanded Info for Black Sails Kink Meme 2024

Hi there!

Since there has been a sufficient amount of interest for this idea, let me explain a little further how I think this will work and general guidelines–

I’m encouraging as informal and low stress/pressure of an atmosphere as possible here. Back in The Day when LiveJournal Kink Memes were common, it was very typical to see a prompt put up and filled within an hour. It doesn’t have to be polished, it doesn’t have to make logistical sense, it just has to fill the prompt as best as you can, sexily! It’s supposed to be fun. A bunch of fun, raunchy kink and smut to roll around in as a fandom. 🥳 🥳

So yeah, first thing to expect, it’s basically ALL PWP (porn without plot). Not to say that someone can’t write a full plot epic if they like, do whatever you like, but in my experience, a 4am fugue state smut fill written in a sweaty haze is kind of, the spirit of the thing. We’re creating ficlets, snapshots, tasty treats of smut with as little pressure to make it in any way polished as possible. Please think of this as, hmmm, a little fun writing exercise you do before you go back to your Big Serious Work, if that helps. We are letting loose, we are having fun, we are being deliciously, joyously, unrepentantly filthy with it! The tagline for the event is: “Get High, Jerk Off Three Times, and Write Me a Warmup :DD”

A prompt might say, for example– “MaxAnne, s2, would love to see the girls get slippery wet with some period sex, bonus if one or both eats the other out while she’s menstruating.” 

Pretty standard stuff, nothing that off the wall from my perspective, however, some folks might feel shy about asking for it for whatever reasons and so the anonymous format frees ppl up to ask for anything from: “Midshipman James McGraw getting caned in pre-canon by his superiors” to, idk, “full tentacle-y type oviposition porn where someone is being forced to come over and over again while being implanted with eggs by some giant plant beast on Skeleton Island (probably Silver).”

Literally ask for whatever smut you want~~ This is your chance, toss it into the pot! It will be tagged accordingly when posted if it’s filled, so live your truth, chase your bliss, know no shame, no one can see you~~

It is helpful when submitting a prompt to give details that are important to you, and the prompt filler will do their best with it. <3 So, I suggest giving a ship specification up front, maybe a vague timeline (season 1, season 2, etc), and then the kinks you want to see with a short description. Sort of like the MaxAnne period sex I gave an example of above.

Logistics and Structure of Submissions–

I have created a sideblog called @blacksailskmeme through which, once submissions are live (it will be open to accept prompts hopefully in March 2024), you may submit ANON ASK PROMPTS. I will publish them with a number and a link to the collection. If you like one of the prompts, simply post it through the collection with its corresponding number and then that AO3 link to your fill will be reblogged underneath the original ask prompt.

Simple as that! 

Follow the Event Blog, or the tag #2024BSKMemeFills in order to keep tabs on when prompts are filled. 

This makes it very easy for me and yall both, as there is no claiming process to trouble ourselves with. As many fills as are written are allowed for each prompt, simply write whatever speaks to you and I’ll be able to track the fills by the notifs on the collection. :DD

As of now, I’m planning to open prompts in March 2024 and keep the collection and blog running for prompts and fills both up through the end of Summer 2024. To respect the spirit of the event, all fills and prompts MUST be anonymous. Edit for clarification: The entire collection is marked Anonymous, which means any work submitted to it will be posted Anon. There is no option you need to worry about checking to guarantee this. I apologize for the initial confusing language, I have been learning as I go.

It still stands that if, after the event is closed, you want to then de-anon your work, that is your prerogative. However, it will mean you must remove the work from the collection, as the collection itself will forever and always remain anonymous.

Rules–

–This is an 18 plus event, please, as all of the content will be Explicit. 

–It is also a Black Sails Only Event, please no crossover prompts or fills. However, AU of all types are encouraged with our favorite pirates.

–All ships, all kinks, are welcome for submission, and the fill will then be tagged appropriately. If you have any questions on how to tag something, or just want another pair of eyes to confirm, you can always DM me <3

–Fills must be 500 words minimum of fic. There is no maximum and the fill is allowed to be WIP if you intend to write more chapters later. I would encourage that the content of the prompt be IN the first chapter at least before submission to the collection.

–We’re Gonna Be Nice and Civil!! No ship bashing, no kink shaming, we’re all mature adults here. If you don’t like something, then don’t fill it, don’t reblog it, don’t read it, pretend you do not see it. If you don’t like it, it’s not for you! 

If I haven’t covered everything here, or if you’re unsure about something, feel free to reach out to me either through the event blog or through @jaynovz <3 Also, if you’d like to help me out with the event, hit me up as well.

Thank you!

[ellies-little-thing]

Life goes on (e.w.) part 1

*not my images, but i edited it

My masterlist <3

pairing: young!ellie/young!reader

Warnings: fluf; reader is referred to as she/her; mentions of trauma; mentions of death and killing; just cute best friend stuff really; Kind of proofread, English is not my first language.

Author's notes: Hi! This was a request but im having a blast writing it! I hope you like it, I really liked writing it! Feedback is always welcome and likes and reblogs are always encouraged! Thank you! Enjoy!  More parts to come!

word count 1.5k

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

14 years old - Part 1

Ellie and you became instantly friends when she arrived at Jackson with Joel. Like 2 peas in a pod, you were inseparable, you were her sun and she was your moon, she always liked you a little more than friends but  she could never really explain it. Nothing could separate you, not even the apocalypse. Not even the end of the world.

You had met when she got to town, you were both 14. She was a shy girl and she seemed like she'd seen a lot of stuff. One day she was in the park alone on the swings and you saw her while you were walking home from school. The school was an old building that used to be a nursery before the outbreak , but they had made a makeover so it felt more appropriate for all ages. There weren't a lot of kids in Jackson so a new face was always welcome. There were four groups of classes at school. One for the babies, one for the toddlers, one for the kids, and one for the teens. Next year you were going  to move on up to the oldest class. You didn't really have friends at school. You talked to the other kids but they never liked you very much. When you saw Ellie, you hoped this would be an opportunity to finally make a real friend.

“Hey! I've never seen you around, you new here?” You asked her, smiling as you sat next to her and started to swing a bit.

“Hi! Yes, I'm new. Name’s Ellie.” She said shyly. “Well, nice to meet you Ellie, I'm Y/N.” You look back at her with a smile on your face.. She had very beautiful green eyes, that was the first thing you noticed about her. But they were sad ones too. You felt a bit bad for her, she must have been through a lot to get here. She had her auburn hair in a low ponytail with some hair framing her round face and freckles all over it and she also had a scar on her left eyebrow. She was pale which only made her freckles look more angelic. When she looked at you she gave you a shy smile, she wasn't used to people being nice to her.

“So, are you okay? You're all alone out here?” You ask her, trying to be as nice as possible. It was a sunny October day and the leaves were starting to fall from the trees. There was a slight breeze and the day was beautiful. The light hit her eyes perfectly, making them look even more gorgeous than they already were.

“Hum, yeah, I'm fine. Just not used to so many people.” She said fidgeting with her hands. She was wearing a purple, pink and white striped jacket with some worn out jeans and some old red converse.

“Oh, I get it. I can leave if I'm making you uncomfortable.” You say with empathy in your voice. She looked back at you with a small smile. “No, it's okay. It's nice actually, no one else has had the courage to come talk to me yet.” She smiles shyly at you. She felt a bit alone only knowing Joel, Tommy and Maria, so you were a nice change of pace. You two continued to talk and get to know each other more. 

“So where are you from?” You asked, looking forward as you swung. 

“Hum… Boston actually…” She said quietly. You made a shocked face. “That's really far away from here. The journey must have been really hard.” You say to her in a bit of a worried tone.

“It was okay. Joel was with me the whole way. He’s Tommy’s older brother actually.” She said with a slight smirk. “He wasn't the greatest company through all of it but we got along eventually. He was coming here anyway to be with his brother and brought me along.” She said this with a slight nostalgic tone and a bit sadder at the end. She didn't want to tell you she was immune and that they were actually going to meet the Fireflies down in Colorado. 

She was very sad when she woke up in the car with Joel and he told her that they had other immune people, so they didn't actually need her. She thought that maybe she was special. That she was going to save the world, but it turned out to not be the case. She didn't know what Joel had actually done. Ellie had gotten bit when she was hanging out with her friend Riley one day. They both got infected and Riley turned quickly but Ellie didn't. She saw her first love, slowly turning into a monster, it never left her thoughts. Weeks went by and she never turned. The Fireflies found her and wanted to travel her across the country to the only surgeon they knew that could maybe be able to make a cure. Joel took her there, but after that, they came to live here. She had just gotten here a few days ago.

“Really? Tommy’s brother? Didn't know he had one. But I'm glad he does and that he brought you here too.” You smile warmly at her.

She felt a bit of joy after hearing your words. Her only friend was dead and she was somewhere she didn't know but at least it seemed like you were actually being nice to her. She had gone through a lot. They took almost a year to get here. She was happy to be somewhere where people were actually nice for once.

After that day you never went another without seeing each other. You enjoyed being in each other's presence and became best friends very quickly. You had a lot in common. You both liked drawing, you liked singing while she was learning how to play guitar, You both loved comics, and as much as she was obsessed with dinosaurs and space, you were with music and books. Your bond only grew bigger every time you were together. Ellie finally felt like she wasn't alone.

You walked to school everyday together, you did your homework together, played together, felt like you could actually be kids together. It was a cruel and scary world, but now you had each other.

You got to know each other better and she told you she didn't have parents. Her mother had died giving birth to her and her father never really was in the picture so she grew up in the Boston Q.Z. as an orphan, until she came here with Joel. They started to form a father-daughter relationship and she was happy to finally have a family, even if it was a small one. Before the outbreak, Joel used to have a daughter named Sarah, but she had died and he didn't like to talk about her. He taught her how to shoot a gun, how to hunt and how to protect herself from threats.

You spent that Christmas together and Ellie loved to finally have a real Christmas with people she cared about and that loved her. You gave her an old dino plushie you had and she almost cried, no one really ever gave her a present. The only thing she had from her real family was her mother's switchblade, she went nowhere without it. She had never been so happy. Your mother didn't like Ellie very much though. She thought she was a bad influence on you but you didn't care. You hung out with her anyway. You finally had a real friend, and no one would take her away from you.

Tommy and Maria were the unofficial leaders of town, they were the ones who had founded it. It was a beautiful community where everyone contributed in some way. You were able to have electricity by using the dam in the river nearby. You considered yourself really lucky for where you lived. Older people were always telling stories about before the outbreak and right  after and how they lost so many people. How they had to survive, hide, use violence even, until they found Jackson. 

You were born here and this was normal to you, but some of the stories about before were actually cool. Like people had phones and could call eachother even across the country, shopping malls, supermarkets, museums, cars that actually worked. You had a dvd player and a cassette one too, you had found some old movies that you used to watch with your family on the weekends on an old gray TV. You liked when the teacher talked about how the world worked before, you used to dream about it almost every night.

Ellie was still haunted by the idea that her immunity meant nothing. She used to have a lot of nightmares from all the stuff that she had gone through to get here. All the people that hurt her and that she had to hurt herself. She hated herself for killing people, but they were all in self defense. But still, those ghosts followed her everywhere she went. Except for when she was with you. You made everything better. She was able to be herself with you.

[filthy-khajiit]

I would like to preface this fic a bit.

{ ☆ Butcher x Fem!Reader ☆ }

The character, kinda made to be like me, personality wise. I don't relate the the aggressive girls in fics. I'm a 30 year old mom, I cook, I clean and I take care of people, and I wanted the fic to reflect that. This is also my first ever The Boys fic. I used to write supernatural fan fiction way back in the day, and I haven't written anything fully in SUCH a long time.

This is all fluffy and what not, only a smidgen of action. Romantic themes, but no smut. Smut free. Was feeling down and I just needed the comfy stuff. Ya know? 💚

Also keep in mind, I was half alive writing and editing this, haven't slept in two days and I'm losing my mind as I'm trying to type this. So this shit has been so lazily and sleepily written because it was for cozy times. Feel me? Alright cool. Thanks 💚 ~ F. Khajiit

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

♧ Chapter 1: The Job Offer

💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚

Y/N Y/L/N had always considered herself an ordinary woman. At thirty years old, she had settled into a quiet routine of solitude, her life marked by the steady cadence of uneventful days and peaceful nights. She worked a series of menial jobs, each as uninspiring as the last, but they paid the bills and kept her modest apartment in Queens running.

One chilly afternoon, Y/N came across a help-wanted ad that piqued her curiosity. It was vague, mentioning only the need for someone to keep a "base" clean. The address was in an obscure part of the city, one she wasn’t familiar with, but something about the anonymity of the ad intrigued her. With a shrug and a hopeful heart, she dialed the number listed and scheduled an interview for the next day.

When she arrived at the nondescript warehouse, she was greeted by a large, bald man with a stern expression. His name was Mother's Milk, though he insisted she just call him MM. He led her inside without much fanfare, explaining the job’s responsibilities in a matter-of-fact tone.

"You'll be cleaning up around here," MM said as they walked through the dimly lit hallways. "It's a bit of a mess most of the time, but we need someone who can handle it. Think you can manage?"

Y/N nodded, her eyes wide as she took in the cluttered surroundings. "I can manage," she said confidently.

◇ Chapter 2: Meeting the Team

Y/N’s first week on the job was a whirlwind of dusting, mopping, and organizing. She quickly realized that this was no ordinary cleaning gig. The base, as it turned out, belonged to a group called The Boys, and they were involved in something far more dangerous than she could have imagined.

Her initial encounters with the team were brief and formal. MM was the most approachable, often giving her a nod or a few words of encouragement. Frenchie, with his charming smile and thick accent, always had a kind word for her, though his frequent absences left her curious about his activities. Then there was Kimiko, silent but fierce, whose mere presence commanded respect.

And then there was William Butcher.

Y/N’s first impression of Butcher was a whirlwind of intensity. He stormed into the base one evening, his voice echoing through the halls as he barked orders and swore in his distinctive Cockney accent. At first, Y/N tried to keep her distance, intimidated by his aggressive demeanor. But as days turned into weeks, she found herself drawn to him in ways she couldn’t quite understand.

♡ Chapter 3: The First Encounter

One evening, Y/N was scrubbing the floor in the main room when Butcher walked in. She could feel his eyes on her, a prickling sensation that made her heart race. She glanced up to find him watching her intently.

"Oi, you missed a spot," he said gruffly, pointing to a corner she had yet to clean.

Y/N flushed, hastily moving to correct her oversight. "Sorry," she mumbled, her voice barely above a whisper.

Butcher smirked, a rare expression that softened his otherwise harsh features. "Don't worry about it, love. You're doin' fine."

His words, though casual, sent a thrill through her. She ducked her head, hiding her smile as she resumed her work. From that moment on, she kept herself looking forward to their brief interactions, cherishing the rare moments when Butcher’s gruff exterior seemed to crack, revealing glimpses of the man beneath.

♤ Chapter 4: Compassionate Care

As time went on, Y/N began to take on more responsibilities around the base. She noticed that the team often came back injured from their missions, and her natural inclination to help kicked in. She started tending to their wounds, offering a gentle touch and a reassuring smile.

One night, Butcher staggered in, blood seeping through his shirt from a nasty gash on his side. Y/N hurried to his side, her concern overriding her usual shyness.

"Let me help you," she said firmly, guiding him to a chair.

Butcher grumbled but didn’t resist as she carefully cleaned and bandaged the wound. Her hands were steady, her touch soothing, and for once, he allowed himself to relax under her care.

"You're too kind for this lot," he muttered, his voice softer than she’d ever heard it.

Y/N met his gaze, her y/e/c eyes filled with determination. "Someone has to be," she replied quietly.

《》 Chapter 5: Hallucinations and Heartbeats

Butcher’s nightmares were a well-kept secret, but Y/N had inadvertently stumbled upon them one late night. She found him in the kitchen, arguing with a man who wasn’t there.

"Joe, I told you to sod off!" Butcher growled, his eyes wild and unfocused.

Y/N froze, unsure of what to do. She had heard the others mention Butcher’s hallucinations in hushed tones, but seeing it firsthand was jarring.

"You can't keep ignoring me, Butcher," the apparition said, his voice dripping with condescension. Joe Kessler, the figment of Butcher’s fractured mind, was a tall, lean man with an eerie presence. He leaned against the counter, his eyes locked on Butcher. "You know I'm right. You're losing your edge."

"Shut up," Butcher spat, his hands clenching into fists. "You don't know a damn thing."

Kessler smirked, his gaze drifting over to where Y/N stood frozen in the doorway. "Ah, who's this then? Little miss housekeeper? She's a looker, ain't she? Bet she doesn’t know the real you."

Butcher’s eyes snapped to Y/N, a flicker of panic crossing his features. "Y/N, go back to bed," he ordered, his voice rough and desperate.

Y/N took a hesitant step forward, her concern for Butcher outweighing her fear. "Butcher, who are you talking to?"

Kessler laughed, a cold, mocking sound. "She can’t see me, Butcher. I'm just in your head, remember? But that doesn’t mean she isn’t real. Look at her, all soft and sweet. Bet she has no idea what she's gotten herself into."

"Shut up, Joe!" Butcher roared, slamming his fist on the counter. The noise echoed through the kitchen, making Y/N jump.

She took another step forward, her y/e/c eyes wide with concern. "Butcher, please, talk to me. What's going on?"

Butcher’s shoulders sagged, the fight draining out of him. He looked at Y/N, his expression a mix of frustration and vulnerability. "It's nothin', just... go back to bed."

Kessler shook his head, his eyes gleaming with malicious amusement. "You think she’ll stay after she sees you like this? You're deluding yourself, Butcher."

Y/N hesitated, then reached out to touch Butcher’s arm. "If you ever need to talk, I'm here," she said softly, her voice steady despite the fear in her eyes.

Butcher stared at her for a long moment, something unreadable in his eyes. Then he nodded, a curt gesture, and walked away, leaving Y/N standing alone in the dimly lit kitchen, her heart aching for the man she was beginning to understand.

☆ Chapter 6: Growing Closer

Despite Butcher’s abrasive exterior, Y/N found herself growing closer to him. She saw the way he softened around her, the way his tough facade cracked just a little when they were alone. She started to notice the small things: the way his heartbeat quickened when she was near, the way he lingered in the same room longer than necessary.

One evening, as they sat in the common room, Butcher glanced at her with an intensity that made her breath catch.

"Why are you still here?" he asked abruptly.

Y/N frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Why do you stay? This place, this life... it's dangerous."

She shrugged, meeting his gaze. "I stay because I care about all of you. And because I want to help."

Butcher's expression softened, and for a moment, he looked vulnerable. "This ain't right fer someone like you, love."

Y/N smiled. "Maybe. But I'm here, and I like it, so I'm not leaving. Unless you fire me, I guess." She glanced away, feeling a bit self-conscious about her rambling.

¤ Chapter 7: The Kidnapping

It was a quiet evening at the base, the kind that Y/N had come to appreciate amidst the chaos that often surrounded The Boys. She was in the kitchen, preparing a simple meal, when Butcher walked in. He leaned against the doorway, watching her with a rare softness in his eyes.

"Smells good," he remarked, his Cockney accent adding a rough edge to the compliment.

Y/N smiled, a warm feeling spreading through her chest. "Thought you might be hungry," she said, her tone light. "Sit down, it'll be ready in a minute."

Butcher nodded and took a seat at the small table, his eyes never leaving her. There was a comfort in the routine, a sense of normalcy that was hard to come by in their line of work. But that peace was shattered when Homelander appeared.

He strode into the room with an air of casual arrogance, his presence instantly changing the atmosphere. Butcher stiffened, his jaw clenching as he stood up, positioning himself protectively between  Y/N and Homelander.

"What do you want, you bloody wanker?" Butcher snarled, his fists clenching at his sides.

Homelander ignored him at first, his attention seemingly on some trivial aspect of the kitchen. But then, he paused, tilting his head as if listening intently. His eyes flicked to Y/N, and a slow, predatory smile spread across his face.

"Well, this is interesting," Homelander drawled, his gaze shifting back to Butcher. "You know, Butcher, your heart is racing. And it only started when I looked at her."

Butcher’s expression darkened, and he took a step forward. "Leave her out of this, you psycho."

Homelander's smile widened. "Ah, but why would I do that? It's so rare to find something that gets under your skin. And this... this is fascinating."

Before anyone could react, Homelander moved. In the blink of an eye, he was standing next to Y/N, his hand gripping her arm tightly. She gasped, fear flashing in her y/e/c eyes as she looked to Butcher.

"Don't you dare hurt her," Butcher growled, his voice shaking with barely controlled rage.

Homelander chuckled, lifting Y/N slightly off the ground as if she weighed nothing. "Oh, I won't hurt her. Much. But I do think it’s time for a little field trip."

Y/N struggled, her heart pounding in her chest. "Butcher," she whimpered, her voice a desperate plea.

Butcher took a step forward, his eyes locked on Homelander. "Put her down. Now."

Homelander tilted his head, as if considering the request. Then he shook his head, a mocking glint in his eyes. "No, I think I'll take her with me. Just to see how far you're willing to go for her."

With that, Homelander shot up through the ceiling, taking Y/N with him. The last thing she saw was Butcher’s anguished face, a look of helpless fury etched into his features.

○ Chapter 8: Butcher’s Rage

Y/N was gone, something inside him snapped. He tore through the base, his heart a thunderous roar in his chest.

"That bloody bastard took her!" he shouted, his voice breaking with fury.

The team scrambled to form a plan, but Butcher was a man possessed. He couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t function without the thought of Y/N driving him forward.

"We'll get her back," MM said firmly, gripping Butcher's shoulder. "We'll get her back."

□ Chapter 9: The Rescue

The rescue mission was a blur of violence and chaos. Butcher led the charge, his sole focus on finding Y/N. When he finally burst into the room where Homelander held her, he saw red.

Homelander laughed, a cold, mocking sound. "Ah, Butcher. I was wondering when you'd show up."

Butcher didn’t waste time with words. He attacked, a fury of fists and rage. The fight was brutal, but with the team’s help, they managed to drive Homelander away.

Y/N, bound and bruised, looked up as Butcher approached. Tears filled her eyes as he knelt beside her, his hands trembling as he untied her.

"Are you okay? Love?" he asked, his voice rough with emotion.

She nodded, collapsing into his arms. "I knew you'd come."

Butcher held her tightly, his heart pounding against her chest. "I'll always come for ya, Y/N. Always."

■ Chapter 10: A New Beginning

The aftermath of the rescue brought a new understanding between Y/N and Butcher. They didn’t need words to express what had grown between them. The bond forged in fire and blood was unbreakable.

Butcher’s hallucinations didn’t disappear, but Y/N’s presence brought him a measure of peace. She was his light in the darkness, and he would do anything to protect her.

One evening, they sat together in the dimly lit common room. Butcher’s fingers traced the delicate lines of Y/N’s hand, his touch surprisingly gentle for a man who so often embodied fury.

“Dunno how you put up wif all this madness, love,” Butcher murmured, his gray-green eyes searching hers. “Most people would’ve legged it by now.”

Y/N smiled, her green eyes meeting his. “I chose this, Butcher. I chose you.”

He snorted, a rough sound that was more affectionate than derisive. “Still, can’t figure out why. I’m a right bastard, and vis life... it ain’t exactly easy.”

She squeezed his hand, her expression unwavering. “Because I see you, the real you. And you’re worth it.”

Butcher stared at her for a long moment, his eyes a mix of confusion and somethin' deeper, somethin' that scared 'em more than he’d ever admit. “Never fought I'd see fe day I'd meet someone like you in fis 'ellhole.”

Y/N leaned closer, resting her head against his shoulder. “But here we are.”

He wrapped an arm around her, holding her close. “Here we are,” he echoed, his voice a low rumble. “Don’t think I’ll ever understand it, but I ain’t complainin’.”

They sat in comfortable silence, the weight of their experiences hanging between them. Butcher knew he wasn’t an easy man to love, but he felt something he hadn’t in a long time: hope.

“You ever need anyfin’, Y/N,” he said quietly, his voice almost a whisper. “Anyfin at all, you come to me. Don’t matter what it is.”

She nodded, feeling the sincerity in his words. “I know, Butcher. I know.”

He kissed the top of her head, a rare gesture of tenderness. “Good. ‘Cause I’m not lettin’ you go, not ever. You’re stuck wif me now, like it or not.”

Y/N chuckled softly. “I think I can handle that.”

[violetsiren90]

All I Haven't Said | Namjoon/Reader

💜 Chapter 3: Part 1 💜

Table of Contents: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3 (part 1), Chapter 3 (part 2)

Pairing: idol!Namjoon/f!Reader

Genre: Soulmate AU; idol AU; chapter fic; strangers to lovers; a bit of idiots to lovers, tbh; slow burn; eventual romance; eventual smut; angst (life is messy & hearts are complex); OT7 featured

Summary: You found your soulmate - or rather, he found you. Turns out he's an idol of much acclaim who needs you for very real and unglamorous reasons. What could become of two hearts so used to giving of themselves when they are confronted with needing each other?

Chapter Word Count: ~6k

Chapter Warnings: This fic is 18+, as is all my work and my page as a whole; Talk and depictions of cancer, its treatment, and the symptoms of both; implication of some disregard for personal agency by entertainment industry; character experience and description of disassociation; flashbacks of a distressing situation; soulmate skinship; cursing; conversations surrounding soulmates and sex; character experiences an emotional breakdown; light embarrassment; CONFLICT (you knew it was coming, right?), there is plenty of fluffy stuff too I PROMISE 😂😅

Author's Note: Wow. It's been a minute. If you're still reading this story, thank you for sticking with me, and I apologize for the stretch of time between updates. For the longest time, I just couldn't get this part right...and then it was far too long, so I split it up, and I'm still editing the second, and (potentially) third parts. I got several messages from readers who were worried I might have abandoned this fic, and let me assure you, far from it! I am not a speedy writer, and struggle with doubting if what I'm putting on the page is good enough, so sometimes it takes me a minute to update, but let me assure you, these characters are so special to me and so alive in me, and I ask thank you for your patience as I work to tell their story! Thank you for your lovely words of encouragement and feedback on the story - I appreciate each and every one of them!!

P.S. If you want to join the tag list, drop me a comment or ask!

P.P.S. If no one has told you yet today, you're loved and worthy of love! 🧜‍♀��💜

"I needed the light of your energy, I looked around, devouring hope."

~Pablo Neruda

Chapter 3: My Windows Ache

  "FUCKING FINALLY."

    "Hey, Di."

    "How dare you ghost me for the forty-eight most interesting hours of your life?!"

    "Well, I was low-key occupied..."

    "TELL ME EVERYTHING." 

     You sighed, settling down on a shaded bench in the garden grounds of the hospital to which you had escaped for a little privacy and an important phone call or two.

    "Uh oh. That was your 'things are complicated' sigh," Diana prodded.

    Your eyes tracked a swallowtail as it flitted from azalea to azalea.

    "Well, things certainly aren't conventional or straight-forward, that's for sure. But where's the fun in understanding the basic parameters of what you're getting yourself into on a life-altering scale, right?"

    "Ummmm...what does that mean? You met him, right?"

You could barely hear your sister's question over the crinkle of plastic in the background.

    "Yeah, I did. We bonded too."

    "Oh mah gah!!" Diana choked out amidst sounds of crunchy chewing. "So what's he like?"

    You thought for a moment.

    "He's kind and intelligent. Obviously extremely resilient. His presence is impressive, but he has something about him that's very disarming. He's kind of clumsy and at moments almost...shy? Like, I don't know what I expected, but there's this sweetness to him that you wouldn't anticipate from someone in his position."

    "As a cancer patient?"

    "As an idol."

    You sighed again.

    "I don't know...he's..."

    Diana let out a strangled sound and uttered an enthusiastic string of words you couldn't make out.

    "I have no idea what you just said. Could you please decide whether you want to talk to me or consume an entire bag of Doritos?" 

    "Hey, it's dinner time here!" she whined, "And I said," her voice quickly changed to take on a smug sing-song tone, "That last sigh was your smitten-kitten one..."

    "It was not!" you cut her off sharply. "And get every single idea of Namjoon and I as a couple out of that scheming head of yours because he's very much taken. I'm meeting his fiancée for lunch today."

    "What? He's engaged?"

Diana let out an exasperated huff.

"Why didn't they tell you about this right off the bat? You're going to be the soulmate of a married man? What does that even mean? This is bullshit."

    You had a hard time disagreeing with her there. It was, in fact, bullshit that Namjoon's team had kept his relationship status a secret. Would it have changed your decision? Probably not. This had been about saving Namjoon's life, not some bizarre attempt at matchmaking. But having a third person to consider, and so intimately, as part of the equation for the rest of your earthly life felt like something you should have been made more immediately aware of. Navigating your boundaries with your soulmate had already been complex enough without introducing the prospect of being a fixture in his married life. When Namjoon had breached the prospect of meeting her, he had been taken aback at your surprise - he, like you, had assumed that Hybe's representation had disclosed everything of significance.

    "So it's a good thing I came here as a lifeline, not a mail-order bride," you reminded your sister, "And that seems to be working, by the way. His vitals are already stable. They stabilized overnight, in fact. And his white blood cell count was way up this morning, which is good because I guess he was experiencing immunosuppression from the chemo."

    "Oh, nice," Diana murmured.

You had to remind yourself that she was young and excitable, and not to be annoyed at the disappointment that he crept into her tone. However, never one to be down for long, her voice brought its usual bright mischief through the speaker as she posed her following question.

    "By the way...how was bonding?"

    She had said it with an inescapably salacious undertone, which is why, you told yourself, heat had begun to creep up the base of your neck. You stammered, switching the phone from one ear to the other as you bought yourself time to reassemble your decorum. 

    "Ah...I mean...it was...intense?"

    "Ooooohhhh," Diana trilled, only making you more uncomfortable as the heat spread from your neck to your cheeks, "Intense, huh? Like in a good way?"

     You squirmed uncomfortably where you sat, thoughts of Namjoon's pleasure-stricken face and the strength of his hand and how his skin felt against your own hitting your hippocampus like a flash flood.

    "Y/n?"

    "It was fine, okay? And it worked - so that's what's important."

    "....Okaaay..." Diana drawled skeptically.

You scrambled for another talking point.

    "That kid visited. The one who came to the States - Jungkook. And another one of the members too - Jim...Jimin? I'm still trying to get their names straight. Some of them don't go by their actual names on stage - Namjoon is RM...but you knew that. Anyway, I digress. Both the boys were really sweet. Seems like they're all very close. I'm supposed to meet the rest of the members at some point next week at dinner. They wanted to have a sort of 'last supper' for us since we're probably going to start rejecting food soon."

    "That's cool, you get to meet the whole team! Oh my gosh, you're just going to casually have dinner with BTS...this is still so unreal!"

    "Yep," you affirmed, a smile tugging at the corner of your mouth.

Namjoon had hit you with a couple of whoppers last night, but this was one you were actually looking forward to. You told Diana all about your first two days in Seoul - about the impressive hospital and its kind staff. About meeting Namjoon, and his condition. About how everything was still so fresh and new. About how so many things were still unsettled, so many questions unanswered.

    "So are you nervous?"

    "About what?"

    "Meeting his girlfriend."

    You had been so wrapped up in filling Diana in on it all that you had actually forgotten about the impending lunch date. As you pulled the phone away from your ear to check the time, your stomach lurched. 

    "Shit, I better get going. It's almost eleven-thirty." You sprang up and started quickly back toward the building.

    "That wasn't an answer," Diana scoffed, "But, hey, sis?"

    "Yeah?" You pressed the "up" button on the elevator.

    "Don't be."

    You smiled.

    "Love you, Di."

    "Love you too. And so does anyone worth a damn."

    After deciding that you smelled like outside, you showered quickly then slipped into caramel-colored corduroys and an off-white tee. You rummaged around the small suitcase Matt had brought from the hotel for you in search of a sweater. After several exasperating minutes of unsuccessful digging, you heaved the bag of laundered clothes that had been returned to you by the hospital staff this morning, having gone through much of the what the Hybe staff had initially pilfered from your luggage in the last two days.

You grumbled in relief as you pulled out your dark green cardigan and slipped it over your shoulders, wondering what the hell the hospital laundry services had done to stretch it out so badly. But, you didn't have time to fuss - so you bunched up the sleeves and headed to the opposite end of the hospital's outdoor grounds where you suspected Namjoon and his guest were already waiting. 

    The hospital grounds were extensive and beautiful, sporting a garden that extended from the western wing, and a lawn punctuated by traditional pavilions to the east. He had pointed out the one he had reserved to you last night - tucked away in the shade of the large gingko trees flanking the little man-made stream that delineated the border of the grounds.

As you made your way toward the shady spot you chided yourself for being so uneasy - everyone surrounding your soulmate had been as lovely and warm and welcoming as he had been, and the woman he loved would likely be no exception. After Namjoon had disclosed that she was a musician like he was, you had done a bit of online recon before going to bed that night.

Her given name was Kim Hyung-seo, but her stage name, by which she was well-known, was Bibi. She was four years Namjoon's junior, but seemed nearly as ambitious. From what you could tell, she seemed to share a similar drive for artistry and honesty in her musical process as her future husband, and though her tendency for loose-canon candidness had landed her in hot water more than once, her earnest sincerity had engendered her to the hearts of her peers and fans alike. In an industry that seemed to often censor and restrict women, Hyung-seo didn't seem to give much credence to the rules. You liked that. You were actually kind of excited to get to know her a bit and ask her about her art - you had always been a woman's woman, and being in the company of strong feminine energy was something you found deeply empowering and grounding. You anticipated that your soulmate's girlfriend was someone you could respect, and you allowed yourself to venture to hope that feeling would be mutual.

    You trotted up the steps of the pavilion and took in its contents. The center had been fitted with a low, round table bearing a colorful and mouthwatering spread of gogi, bibim guksu, gimbap, and banchan. Cushions had been placed on the floor for seating, but none bore the lunch companions you had been anxious not to keep waiting. You were about to take your place at the table when a figure moving near the creek caught your eye.

You moved to the far side of the structure, to see your soulmate deeply engaged in conversation...with a duck.

He was standing near the edge of the water, his tall figure clad in silky modern navy blue hanbok. The top was untied and hung loosely over a white tee - the only contrast to the deep muted tone apart from his cognac loafers. He wore a dark beanie pulled low on his head, which was bowed in affectionate greeting to a juvenile Gadwall who had paddled away from his family to sample the little bits of starchy fluff that the stranger had sprinkled onto the water.

You pressed your palms against the painted wood, taking him in with a smile as he crouched down, extending a bit of bread between his fingers slowly toward the curious little water foul.

This man, you were learning - this erstwhile underground rapper, this leader of men, this brilliant intellectual and genius artist - this great, powerful, impressive man could be called out of his poise in an instant by the sweet and tiny things of the world.

You watched as he waited patiently, the little duck swimming in to-and-fro circuits and drawing closer and closer to Namjoon with each pass, until finally it was close enough to snatch its prize from him and scuttle off quickly to rejoin its mother and siblings. Namjoon chuckled, smiling fondly as he watched the duck make his way back down the creek.

This man, you thought to yourself, could not possibly be real.

    "So you're a Kpop idol and a Disney princess, huh?" you called, causing Namjoon to startle and rock back on his heels, landing on his posterior in the damp grass.

    You slapped a hand over your mouth to repress the laughter that threatened to bubble up at the site of his large well-dressed figure tipped back haphazardly on the creekside. He huffed a sheepish laugh as he stood, swiping at the back of his pants.

    "Give a person a little warning?" he chided lightly, approaching you where you leaned on the railing.

    "Sorry," you chuckled, "I didn't want to scare your little friend."

    "So you settled for scaring your soulmate? I see how it is." 

    You smiled and ducked your head.

    "Sorry," you murmured, flicking your gaze back to his.

He looked up at you, fixing you with his warm brown eyes and bringing his hands to grip the railing on either side of yours. Suddenly, you felt shy. You shook yourself.

    "Hey, hang out with the ducks and you'll end up with a wet tail," you teased.

Namjoon's eyebrows drew together in mock disgust.

    "Yikes, you're almost as bad as Seokjin hyung," he remarked disparagingly.

    You shrugged, smirking.

    "I have no idea what that means, but whoever Seokjin is, he must have a superior sense of humor."

Namjoon was opening his mouth to respond, but was cut short, as the tiny motion of your shoulders had slid one of your hands just a centimeter down the railing and barely flush with his own. The slight contact was enough to send sudden little tingles of comfort shooting up your arm and across your chest. In a millisecond you felt yourself relax where you hadn't realized you were tense. You could have imagined it, but you thought you felt Namjoon press his hand just a fraction more into yours as he swallowed and heaved a deep sigh.

You reminded yourself for the hundredth time since you arrived that this was biological. Clinical. The means to an end. Damn, he felt good though.

You found yourself snatching your hands away to push up your cardigan sleeves and then stuff them into your pants pockets where they would stop confusing you. You distracted yourself from Namjoon's subtle look of disappointment with an apology.

    "Sorry about your pants," you rocked back on your heels as you looked out over the little ribbon of water rippling over its stony bed behind him.

He glanced over his shoulder and brushed himself off again before waving a hand in dismissal. Your eyes focused back on the blue silk.

"I didn't realize this was a fancy lunch. I feel under-dressed."

    "You look nice," Namjoon rebutted, as he glanced over your attire. Then his brow pinched as his eyes halted on your torso, flitting over your arms and shoulders. "But isn't that -"

    "Joon?"

A voice behind you caused you to turn.

Standing at the top of the steps was the woman it belonged to. She was tall and beautifully slender - her svelte figure draped in a slinky chrome dress with a triangular cutout that displayed the smooth skin of her upper abdomen. Her glossy raven tresses were styled away from her face in a high ponytail, drawing sharp attention to her sultry features. Her smoky eyes glanced over your form with a lazy intensity, lids half-raised over dark irises, and her pouted lips pursed in appraisal. You wondered just exactly how many ridiculously beautiful people traveled in Namjoon's circle.

She stepped toward you, her chunky pink heels marking her confident strides on the floorboards, before bowing and extending a small hand with sharp white acrylics and icy sliver rings.

    "I'm the girlfriend!" she hummed, her deep, velvety voice matching her features.

    You bowed in return before shaking her hand politely.

    "So nice to meet you," you smiled, "I'm -

    "The soulmate," she cut you off, glancing over your shoulder at Namjoon, who still stood outside the pavilion, "of that weirdo." '

Namjoon circled around to the entrance of the pavilion before joining you with a wry smile. He introduced the two of you formally, before being the first to take a seat at the table. Hyung-seo joined him, shimmying her cushion closer to Namjoon's as she used a pair of chopsticks to load her plate with selections from the spread. 

    "Oh my god, I'm STARVING," she gushed, staring at Namjoon impatiently as he took a bit of kimchi fried rice and a few slices of samgyeobsal.

    "My stomach feels like it could take some real food for the first time in a while," he said with eager enthusiasm, glancing up at you with a smile of gratitude. 

    Hyung-seo tapped her chopsticks against her plate as she watched you survey the dishes before you. You took some kimchi fried rice and carefully ladled out a small bowl of doenjang-jjigae. You pulled your hands into your lap and watched the steam rise from the fragrant broth.

    "Ah, unnie..." Hyung-seo began before Namjoon shushed her and lightly tapped her knee.

You glanced between them in confusion. Namjoon merely smiled at you, and you smiled back, glancing down from his warm gaze to your plate.

    "Oh for the love of god, would you take a bite?"

    You looked up rather startled at Hyung-seo, who was leaned forward, her desperate eyes tracking your movements, and the chopsticks clutched in her right hand hovering over a plump, sweating mandu.

You blinked, fumbling for your chopsticks as your soulmate admonished the woman next to him. You took a heap of fried rice onto your chopsticks and brought it to your lips, looking questioningly between the two across from you. Hyung-seo groaned in impatience, her head lolling back.   

    "In Korea, the eldest eats first," Namjoon offered in soft explanation, his features trained in apology.

    As realization washed over you, you all but shoved the rice into your mouth, hoping to swallow your embarrassment with it, followed quickly by Hyung-seo, who popped two mandu into her mouth consecutively. Her eyes rolled back as she let out a groan of appreciation. You watched Namjoon carefully savor a piece of samgyeobsal. He smiled a dimpled smile. You smiled to yourself as you tucked into your fried rice. Namjoon's fiancée watched you both. Her cheeks were full, but she wasn't smiling.

Your little trio ate in contented silence until your visitor, having satisfied her belly, fixed her eyes on you with a different sort of eagerness. The time for questions had come, you realized. You set down your chopsticks, taking a drink of water.

    "I'm sure there is so much we'd like to know about each other," you offered with a smile.

    She pulled her lips into a brief grin, sipping from her own glass as her eyes trailed over you. You cleared your throat.

    "So, I read that y-"

    "How does it feel?" she interrupted, starring at you raptly. You blinked.

    "I'm sorry?"

    "When he touches you." She licked her lips. "I heard it's like cumming. I heard it's better."

Namjoon slid a large hand over her thigh. You saw it squeeze.

    "Jagiya..." he murmured.

    You glanced at him and gave him a reassuring grin which he returned, though not as readily as before. Not the start to the conversation you had hoped for, but she was living up to her brusque reputation. You let yourself laugh a little at the question, and saw Hyung-seo's mouth curl up a bit at the corners, though it didn't reach her eyes.

    "It's nothing like sex, actually," you mused, trying to be as forthcoming as possible without abandoning politeness. "Strange, I guess, because it is all about physical exchange and contact. But...it's more like...nourishment? I don't know...I haven't had long enough to think about it."

You had had quite long enough to know that it was ineffable, but in the most intoxicating, magnificent way - and a hell of a lot better than most of the sex you'd had. This, however, wasn't the time and place for descriptions of the bond that could be ripped from the pages of drugstore romance novels.

    You found yourself turning to Namjoon with a questioning gaze, as if to ask if he had anything to add. He nodded in response, not meeting your eyes.

    "Yeah, it's different," he murmured succinctly.  

    Hyung-seo hummed in assent, chewing on her lip, her gaze still roving over you. You decided to try again.

    "So how did you m-"

    "How do you do it?"

    You stifled a small sigh that threatened to escape your lips.

    "Do what?"

    "Use the bond. Like, do you hold hands, or...or what?"

    You looked to Namjoon who murmured something in Korean that sounded like a warning. This wasn't going as you'd hoped. Her questions were natural ones, but not the first you thought you'd be asked, and not so pointedly. In fact, they were ones she should probably have put to her partner. Had they not spoken since you arrived?

    "The bond works with any physical contact. When I first got here, I had so many questions myself. The hospital personnel were very informative while helping us navigate our questions. I still know very little, but as someone whose partner is bonded, I'm sure they would have someone who could better answer these types of questions than I can," you offered.

It was the opposite of forthcoming, but you were absolutely not prepared to launch into a conversation about you and her fiancé spooning in your undergarments. The trajectory of the exchange had to go elsewhere, so you resolved to take the wheel.

    "Is there anything you'd like to know about me? Maybe I could tell you a little about myself. My job in the states wasn't glamorous, but I loved it. I was -"

    "A social worker, I know," she murmured with a sigh, and Namjoon's head snapped toward her.     

You could feel your confusion pulling into a frown. In your beat of silence, the woman in front of you gave into another impulse as she placidly launched into an answer of your unasked question.

    "You're a social worker from the West coast, oldest of three kids. Your father died when you were ten. You graduated summa cum laude, and chose a career in women's services. You support your mother's living - you have been, long-term. Your brother is an engineer and your sister is in nursing school. You've never committed any crimes, but you were arrested once in college at some political protest about immigrant rights. Your blood type is O positive. You don't seem very good with your money, but you've never asked for financial assistance. You've never been married." 

    Silence.

    Your ears were ringing.

    You blinked as you tried to focus, grappling for something on which to stabilize your composure. This isn't how this was supposed to go. You felt your control slipping as the words pierced you in echoes that knocked you back down each time you reached out to steady your mind. 

    "Your father died when you were young..."

    "...You support your mother's living..."

    "...You don't seem very good with your money"

    Your mind whirred as the silence closed in, and for a moment you were suspended.

        Diana and Henry weren't pillars, you thought - they were tiny little babies as your mother clutched them on either side of her prone, shaking form as shovels of dirt were shifted back into the gaping hole that held a pine box covered in flowers. You looked down at the flag in your hands, and then up at the white flowers, still fresh and blooming, being caked and sodden with damp soil. You felt something rising up in your chest - something that never reached the surface. You turned from the wound in the earth as Dianna reached out and tugged at your arm. The babies looked afraid. You couldn't see your mother's face from where it was buried in her skirts. You tucked the flag reverently under your arm and took the little hands.

    Somewhere outside the amniotic sack of your mind, you saw Namjoon's figure stand. You heard his garbled voice speak to the woman beside him. He was angry, his voice pitched low. Hers in response was sharp and high.

    You took a deep breath and exhaled. Your chest was beginning to labor and your inhaler was on the fifth floor of a building on the other side of the property.

You willed yourself back into this world you had chosen. This place which, like the others you had inhabited, would discover its new tenant didn't take long to adapt. She was built to withstand.

    "Namjoon," you called softly, as you looked up at your soulmate. His eyes snapped to yours, his face showing subtle but unmistakable signs of distress - eyes reflecting remorsefully and jaw flexing.

You smiled at him gently, reassuringly.

    "It's alright," you insisted, your eyes not leaving his.

You saw his shoulders sag, and his head bow. His hand came up to scrub over his face. You realized then that she was looking at you. Hyung-seo's expression was apprehensive, her eyes scouring your face.

    "This must be an extremely difficult thing for you, whatever the reason," you offered earnestly.

    She regarded you in silence, her eyes flickering like the flame of a candle.

    "I would say, 'I understand', but I don't. I have no idea how hard it must be to fall in love with someone only to watch them suffer at the hands of disease, and to suffer so greatly and to come so close to losing them that you turn to finding a person who can save them, and who - if they are saved by - they will need and desire for the rest of their natural life. A person who isn't you." 

    Her eyes quivered as they held you in their gaze.

    "I know I'm supposed to be a saving grace," you continued, having gained your ground, "But I know I could also look a lot like a threat. Trust me when I say that you can be open and honest with me about how you feel. This is a difficult situation where we're going to feel burdened by things we shouldn't. Namjoon and I discussed this."

    You smiled again at your soulmate, who was watching you with relief and something else in his features. You wanted to call it admiration, but you had only known him for two whole days.

    "Whatever fears you're carrying that make you feel like a burden in this moment, could I ask you to set them aside? For a chance to get to know me in the real way that you deserve? This isn't a trap. Or a cage. We've all chosen to be here."

    You regarded Hyung-seo in the silence that followed. Her eyes had fallen from your face - they glanced over toward where Namjoon stood, barely raising toward his figure, when she suddenly dropped her face into her hands and began shaking with sobs.

    You let out a sigh of relief too soft to be heard by the others.

    "Fuck...." Hyung-seo choked out against her palms, "I'm such a piece of shit..."

    Namjoon moved to place a hand over her back and assure her she wasn't. You wondered what she felt when he touched her. Your heart ached with pity for her. Namjoon drew her into his chest and held her as she cried her makeup off. He stroked her hair as her regarded her with weary, worried eyes. You couldn't help but feel that you were encroaching on a private moment...expect that you were a part of this as much as they were. Was there a lifetime of this feeling to be endured? You sighed again.

    "I'm gonna give you guys a minute," you whispered as you clambered to your feet.

    Namjoon nodded silently over the woman in his arms. 

    You watched scattered leaves from the boughs overhanging the far side of the stream spin as the were swept away. Your eyes tracked one in particular, twirling as it sailed around a protruding rock and under an arching root, only to be stopped as it was doubled at the middle by a thin, swaying reed. You found your feet moving to where the water rushed around it as it billowed helplessly on both sides of its obstruction like a flag of surrender. You slipped off your shoes and rolled up your pants. You waded into the cool, clear water and, reaching out, tugged the little leaf free. You watched as it sailed on, disappearing around a bend in the waterway. You glanced back up at the pavilion. If you could have been sure it was the right move, you would have left altogether, but you wouldn't want your sudden departure to be taken the wrong way.

    You sighed. You pulled your phone out of your back pocket as you waded back out of the stream. Dead. You were bad about keeping it charged, and your conversation with Diana had drained its aged battery. You wished you had a book. Glancing about, your eyes caught a fairly large patch of clover flowers a few yards down the bank, and crossing the soft grass, you sank down in its center.

You smiled weakly to yourself as you plucked one of the little white buds near the base of its stem. You and your siblings would spend hours at the park under the shade turning sprawling patches of the puffy blooms into garlands, crowns, bracelets, and rings. You picked another flower and tied its supple stem into a knot just under the other flower's head. 

    By the time Namjoon came to join you, sinking down across from you in little clover patch you had fashioned yourself a crown and a necklace, and were working on a garland to send to Diana. You set down your handiwork to look up at him. He was regarding you with soft, somber eyes and a little smile that looked like one he didn't have the energy for but couldn't help besides. He picked a flower and twirled it between his fingers.

    "I'm so sorry," he murmured, "If I would have thought that things would go that way, I wouldn't have insisted on her meeting you before she left. She's going on tour and I thought...well, I thought if she just met you her anxieties would be eased."

    You nodded thoughtfully.

    "Thank you for your patience and kindness. She was out of line saying those things to you like that...you were...that was everything she needed to hear, I think."

    You cast your eyes down as you tied off another knot in the garland.

    "Is she okay?" you asked quietly.

    Namjoon sighed.

    "She's...embarrassed. Ashamed of herself. She wasn't in any condition to finish that conversation, so I suggested she go home."

    "Understandable," you assented, nodding again.

    Silence hung between you for a moment before you raised your eyes to his again.

    "Namjoon...there are some things I think we should discuss."

    He nodded earnestly, his eyes falling, brow creasing and tongue pressing into his cheek.

    "I know we haven't had much time," you continued, "And we have literally the rest of our lives...but, I think we should be on the same page about what we've been told about each other. I think it will make this whole process easier? I don't know. There are some things you assume you'll have to tell someone at a certain point in knowing them - some things that are...deeply personal..."

    "Aren't things between us already that way? Deeply personal?"

    You looked up and those half-lidded brown eyes were looking right at you in a way you weren't prepared for, in a way that flooded your veins. Soulmate. You wanted to touch him. You wanted to feel him and what he brought to you. You wanted him to feel it too. But you didn't know him, and he didn't know you, and he needed healing, which is why you were here. He loved someone who loved him whose lives you were disrupting. This feeling was basal, you knew - came with the territory...but you were going to need some strong boundaries if this was going to function. You were going to need honesty, for a start.

   "They are," you relented slowly, "But I have questions that I need answers to. Your trust in me is clear, and I appreciate that...but...I need time to get my footing here."

    Namjoon nodded in assent.

    "I get that. So, what do you want to know, specifically? I'll answer any question you have."

    You nodded gratefully.

    "Thank you. Do you think I could take a little time to think about what I want to ask? I'm kind of still processing everything that just happened."

    "Of course," he was quick to answer, "Whenever you want to talk, just let me know. Did I say how sorry I am?" he asked smiling weakly as he looked up from where he struggled to knot the stem of one flower around another, suddenly looking down again when its stem snapped between his fingers.

    You huffed out a little laugh.

    "Yes, you did," you did, you answered, offering him a rueful grin.

    He picked another flower only to realize he had cut its stem too short for his purposes. He tossed the little blossoms back into the grass.

    "Can you make me one?" he asked pathetically, pouting at the garland in your hands.

    You chuckled as you tied off the one in your lap and leaned forward to slip it over his head. He adjusted it around his neck, looking down at it with a pleased expression.

    "You know...if you can believe it, we actually got lucky in there," he smirked, his forehead creasing as he raised his brow.

    You gave him a look of confusion. His eyes trailed over your torso again before flitting back up to yours.

    "She didn't notice that you're wearing my sweater."

    You froze. Then you blinked down at the giant green cardigan that had, in fact, slipped down off of one shoulder. Then you gaped at him.

    He snickered.

    You scrambled to yank the sweater over your head, even as he laughed and protested, you blustered apology after expletive after apology.

    "Shit, it was in my laundry bag!" You whined in explanation as you shook it out and began to fold it in your lap.

    "Stop, just keep it on," Namjoon insisted, still clearly amused at your state of panic.

    "I have one just like this. Like, identical but obviously smaller. I just assumed it had stretched out in the wash..." You extended the sweater toward him.

    He shook his head.

    "Just give it back later, you'll be cold." He looked up at your exasperated expression and started laughing again.

    "Stooop..." you whined in embarrassment, and when he only laughed harder, you tossed the sweater in his face. As he balled it up with a smile where it fell down into his lap, his smart watch trilled. He glanced down at it.

    "I've got labs scheduled now," he sighed.

    "Hopefully they'll bring more good news," you offered, at which he nodded. "I seem to be getting the job done, if I do say so myself," you teased, leaning back on your hands and offering him a smug look.

He nodded, tongue in his cheek, then pushed to stand - with effort, you noticed - and extended a hand down to you. You didn't realize what the little smile on his mouth was for until you accepted his hand with your own, by habit, and were nearly knocked back off your feet as the bond surged through you like a wave of mind-numbing euphoria that left you unable to process information outside of what was sent coursing through your every cell from where he touched you.

    You blinked up at him as you got your wits about you, and he was looking down at you through little slits in his barely-open eyes, head tilted back and mouth hanging open - little smirk still tugging at its corner. You pursed your lips, trying not to grin back.

    "You did that on purpose," you chided, trying and failing to train your features in a scowl.

    His smirk deepened.

    "What? I was just being courteous..."

    You rolled your eyes.

    "I'm feeling a little weak, I think it would be best if you helped me back to the room," he muttered slyly, turning to head back toward the building.

The smile that was dimpling his cheek and creasing the corners of his eyes did something to your stomach that had you yanking your hand out of his grasp.

    "Yeah, right," you huffed, forging a few steps ahead of him, "You're putting a lot by your poorly reputed coordination to think you could walk while I was touching you." 

    He let out a laugh behind you. It was loud and bright and had you biting back a smile to match it.

    "What happened to getting the job done, sweater thief?" he called after you teasingly.

    Shit. Yeah. Boundaries. You were going to need them.

_________________________________________________

Well, they met! Next part to follow soon.

Thank you for sticking with me here!

Tag list: @butterymin @little-dark-empress @aretha170 @kamilamb @jlee97 @thephotoend @callmenoona25 @felicityroth @softforyoongles @berlianv @honneypies @deadrose287 @n0pesir

[niko-jpeg]

MOOT APPRECIATION

@vessel-posts-stuff I know you haven't been on that account in years, but I still wanted to include you. Thank you for introducing me to Tumblr and allowing me to make such wonderful friends. I think of you quite often <3

@v1vz-arttt We're moots on your old account, and while you didn't refollow me (?), I still love you!!!!!! Thank you for everything my good friend :)

@adorablemew Mew!!! Oh my god hi we haven't talked in forever. How did I get someone so cool to be my moot? Your art is incredible, your creations are wonderful, and thank you so much for putting up with me back in my previous Undertale fixation. You inspired me greatly.

@psycho-chair BITES YOU. You have been an inspiration for me forever at this point and I thank you for being just!!! YOU!!!! We need to chat more fr fr. You helped me through a rough time, no matter if you were aware of it or not. Also good to see another Crepic shipper here on the front lines. Sorta unrelated but I'm so glad my secret little otp has gotten a little more traction. You keep being you buddy grrrhshjfskjdhfdkjjksjkh <33333

@glitchysquidd Another instance of HOLY hell how did I get such a cool art moot???? You're really cool. I go feral over your art, whether youre aware of it or not. I love your vibe, your aesthetic, your everthing. Its so cool. You're so cool. A.

@thosegoodbois We don't interact much these days, but I still think of our conversations often. I like how unabashedly you you are. Its refreshing and fun and I still enjoy scrolling through your posts and seeing you on my dash. Tee hee.

@skyedancer2006 Hi hi!!!! We met because of a Secret Santa, and I'm happy we're moots. I love seeing you guys on my dash, and I love seeing the positivity yall bring to it all. Keep it up, and if I referred to you incorrectly, I am so sorry ack.

@bean-with-a-knife grabs your shoulders and shakes you. You are so. the most ever. We've been besties forever, and I'm so happy to have you as a friend. You keep me going, and encourage me when I'm not so sure, and you put up with my bullshit, and I absolutely love you big ol platonic kiss for you. Thank you for everything you've done for me.

@naaru304 HI!!!!!! You're so cool. I know we don't really talk but I really really like seeing you on my dash and you reblog all of the best stuff. YOUR ART IS SO EDIBLE ACK. Its so round and clean and just. Stuffs in my mouth and shakes it around and giggles cutely. I love it.

@p3-mochishira HI!!!!! Vamp you are such a moot. I love your edits and I love your ocs and I love your whole vibe. You light up my day and I'm so happy that we're moots. Big ol hug sent your way!!!

@queen-ofsunflowers oh my god you are such a cool author. And we're moot what. WHAT. AAAA!!!!! I really look up to you, and MnM is such a treasure I hold close to my heart. I look forward to whatever is in the future, and I wish you nothing but the absolute best in this coming year.

@mmmn-thirsty-for-vinegar Yet another cool incredible mutual I don't know how I landed with. Your art? incredible. The posing and lighting is immaculate. I love all of your art so much, and you're a big old inspiration foundtain haha. <3

@yoshikass HI!!!!!!!! I love your reblogs. I love the variety. I love everything. Your blog's vibe is also so much fun. You keep being you <33

@dollar-store-emo-413 Your brain is fascinating. Congrats on your freedom from our hell, and I wish you luck on your future /lh!! (for context we went to the same school)

@snowdoesthings Man. It's been forever and a half huh. I'm happy we're still moots, and I'm happy that we still kind of brush shoulders sometimes. I'm sorry you had to deal with 2020 me haha. Love you <3

@dexxeal Im in the walls of the Miku chruch btw can you come let me out I'm stuck.

@mhafanlol2000 Happy new year and I wish I'd see you around on HKRP more often ahah! See you in the new year :)

@cordycepsbian You're so cool. Like wow. I love everything about what you post. Your humor is so on point and your art is so skrunkly I'm obsessed.

@vivasharme Its so nice to see you again!!! I missed you a lot while you were away. I hope you're feeling better, and I can't wait to get back to talking soon. I'm gonna blow up your dms hee hee >:) /j

@someguyiguess23 Your art!!!!! Its so awesome I'm eating it and framing it and just. Nom. I hold the art you did of Nago dear to my heart. Your art is so shape!!!!

@christiankirbo Poyo

@mantis-on-a-table I adore your art so much. I have so many cool art moots but I especially love what you've got going on. Its so high quality and tickles my brain in such a wonderful way!!! Happy New Year!!

@extreme-exe water (you're a really great friend, never forget that!)

@wintar0 Hi!!!! We dont talk much but you're a wonderful moot. Best of wishes for the new year, and I can't wait to see more of you and your creations!!!

@drallion No, not for Drallion, for his creator! You've been such a delight in HKRP, I'm so happy I get to know you. <3333

@rentavoider Hi hi hi have fun on your trip to Italy and see you next year!!!

@crownne-prince !!!! HI!!!!Thank you for being such an incredible and encouraging moot. You really cheer me up and I love seeing your posts on my dash. Akechi is in your walls fun fact.

@lemmykirby Your art is so cool. I love the style and I love how its executed and bottom line I just. runs away with your art tee hee

@jayjar100 YOU!!! YOU ARE SO COOL NEVER FORGET THAT!!!!!!! I loved drawing your baby forever ago, and I think about them constantly. In fact I have some extra doodles laying around that I probably should post haha.

@kotoneshiomiofficial You are so right. About everything. All of the time. You are correct and are the coolest trans fox girl I have ever met and I think you're awesome. Big ol heart for you <33333333

@finleyforevermore Hi Finnley. Thank you so much for everything. You are such a light, and a huge encouragement, and thank you for enjoying my HPII content (theres more cooking up trust me). You're a precious moot of mine, and I don't think I can ever describe how much I like your posts. And the fandoms we have in common? Incredible. UMTV, RTC, HPII, Sonic, etc. Like wow. I love it !!!!!! <3333

@i-do-not-exist-hun I LOVE YOU AND YOUR EVERYTHING ILL PROBABLY GO INSANE IN YOUR DMS LATER TELLING YOU EVERYTHING THANK YOU SO MUCH I LOVE YOU AND YOUR WORK THANK YOU FOR BEING THERE FOR ME BIG HUG

and finally @box-o. My darling partner in crime and girlfriend. I love you so much, and cannot wait to spend another year with you. Your art is so cartoony and fun, and thank you for passing the Sonic (no, not the metal) virus on to me. Heres to another year <3

[reasonsforhope]

Let's get some good shit done: 9/26/23

In the name of encouraging each other, supporting each other, and reminding us all how many ways there are to help - how much each of us can make a difference -

Reply or comment (or add in the tags if you’d prefer) with something you did recently to help the environment, your community, or people who need it. Big or small.

<3

Here’s my version. It's been an unusually good couple weeks I think!

Got certified in CPR and first aid (this was to apply for some jobs but I'm still really glad I did it in general)

Started to once again actually honor my damn commitment to wearing masks in stores and the like (slipped over the summer unfortunately)

Researched soil rehabilitation to teach stuff to my mom

Got my mom to start raking dead leaves onto all the (many, many) bare patches in our backyard. Other steps to follow. Soon the yard is gonna be so much healthier! (I hope!)

Relatedly, stopped my mom from accidentally killing all her herb plants by leaving them somewhere with insufficient sun (nobody ever tell my mom I post about this shit lmao)

About to start applying for some care work jobs (cross your fingers for me)

Called my representatives to tell them not to vote for KOSA, on privacy/human rights reasons

Got "smudging ceremony" instructions cut from a business book by a white and non-Indigenous author, now replaced with smoke cleansing. If I'm very lucky my explanatory lil essay will get the author to make the switch in their own business as well

Actually I think I removed smudging from two different books in the past month? (I'm a book editor for context) So that's always good

Removed some ableist language from those books while I was at it. This kind of thing doesn't always come up, but it's always really nice when I get to actually help fix this stuff

Honestly, one of the things that makes me really heartened and feel hopeful about the future is the way I've seen things shift re: sensitivity edits. When I started working in publishing (less than 10 years ago!), I had to carefully count and ration all of my sensitivity comments/notes to make sure they were taken seriously and that none of my bosses or coworkers got pissed at me

Now, I literally advertise sensitivity edits as one of my specialties up front, I regularly get actively thanked and praised specifically for those notes, and I don't have to hold back at all (tho I do ofc still write them very politely)

We still have a ways to go, but there really has been so much of a change in attitudes on this front, writ large

Anyway, essay over - tell me about the cool things you all did!